


Like a Fire in the Sky

by PsiCygni



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Knew each other as kids, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 88,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsiCygni/pseuds/PsiCygni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So you slept with a young, impressionable half-Vulcan, who you never thought you'd see again, and is now a decorated graduate, a superior officer, and even though you're not interested in a relationship with him, he rocked your world in a way that you can't forget," Gaila said carefully. "Basically." "That's great. You and I are going to be best friends with a story like that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So obviously this is not your typical origin story for Spock and Uhura. I've read so many wonderful ones, that sometimes I feel like the fandom builds this great story for them with the only drawback being that they're all very similar. Which is great, since the writing is great, and all the other stories are probably realistically how it happened. I've written a ton of this story already, then almost didn't publish it, since it seemed to stray so far from fandom expectations. Then I thought, whatever, if readers don't like it, they won't read it and I put it up anyway.
> 
> The whole reason I thought this up in the first place was that I still couldn't reconcile Spock sleeping with a student and then while I was trying to explain that to myself, I was like, of course! They've known each other for ever and Spock implicitly feels differently about her and around her because she knows him so well before the Academy. And for her part, she implicitly understands him because she understands his family. Also, true love, of course.

Her summer had been a series of farewells, ever since the Starfleet recruiter had come in her pressed black uniform, a padd offered in front of her like a ticket to her future. Nyota had been reveling in her graduation from the Institute for Advanced Mathematics, her diploma recently framed and a stack of job offers on her parent's kitchen table when she heard the door chime. Starfleet had belonged to her brother, and to a handful of other acquaintances, so when the officer asked to speak to her, it was the first time that the dream of stars had begun to become her own.

Language, and the mathematics of the rhythms and music behind it, had driven her through an elite preparatory school and secured high honors for her in college. She had traveled, and studied abroad, but her experience with Kamau's career path was mostly warp engine sketches hung up in his room and his talk about weapons and firefights in the Neutral Zone.

"Diplomatic Corps," was her easy answer when the recruiter asked after her plans, echoing the dreams of her parents, and the dreams they held for her. The recruiter had then spun a very pretty picture of the other side of Starfleet, the image of Nyota seeing planets she hadn't heard of yet, and being the first to learn about new cultures, to listen to new languages.

"You'd be living and working with species you have no contact with now, and the people you meet will change your life. You will be challenged, and exhausted, and tested in ways that you cannot now fathom, and the intellectual stimulation and personal and professional rewards far exceed that of other work," the woman had said. "Starfleet takes the best of each generation of students from across the Federation. We want you at Starfleet because you are the best, and your record indicates that you want to work with the best. This is not an easy path, but I don't think that's what you want."

Nyota said no three times before she called the recruiter back and said yes. When she told her parents, the stars shone in her eyes and her father had cried, hugging her to him before stepping back, his hands on her shoulders. "You will excel at whatever you attempt," he said. Her mother had pressed her lips together and said nothing, but the morning Nyota picked up her bag and stepped out of her parent's home, she had pressed their hands together. "Learning about other cultures shows us a reflection of our own," she had said and the words echoed a memory that Nyota pushed down, far away where she kept such things. "We have traveled with you since you were young, and met many people and seen many places. It is your own journey now you must take. Do not forget your home."

Nyota did not cry. She had said other goodbyes and the brush of her mother's worn hand ached in her throat as she blinked, her eyes hot. She had sat with her grandmother and grandfather the day before in their cool living room, speaking in a language she would soon grow to miss. She and her sister had shared a pint of ice cream, divided their clothes and jewelry, and fallen asleep in the same bed, just as they had before Nyota left for college. "Meet some space cowboy for me," Makena had whispered. "Blonde, blue-eyed, bad news that Mom and Dad wouldn't want you to bring home." The new ring on her left hand had glinted and Nyota had smiled. "I'm going to be an old married woman. I need some stories."

Her brother waited at the door to the flitter, his red shirt with its silver Lieutenant Commander stripes a sharp contrast to the green of her parent's front yard. Nyota did not cry, but her brother squeezed her hand as they drove away.

"Oh, Ny," Kamau said, squeezing her to him when they arrived at the transport station. "This is just the beginning. You're on an adventure now. You'll meet so many people!" He kissed her cheek as her stomach clenched at the thought. He backed up and handed over her bag. "See you in the stars." He smiled at her, and she wanted to walk forward to him again, but her stiff red uniform didn't seem to let her move. He climbed back in his flitter, giving her the small wave he had given when he had left for the Academy, and he would give his parents when he boarded the USS Eisenhower in three days.

He was her last goodbye, and she swallowed and put her bag on her shoulder. Five uniforms, two pairs of boots, underwear, socks, and a sundress that Makena had promised was imperative to Nyota's social life. When she got to the Academy, the sun only rising there as it set over her family's house in Mombasa, she would find a mandazi from her grandmother and her mother's matoke. It would be the first meal she shared with her roommate, and her last taste of home for months.


	2. Chapter 1

“I do not want to have sex with you,” Nyota’s roommate said when she opened the door, stepping over the threshold with her hand tight around the strap of her bag. 

“Um, ok. I don’t want to have sex with you either,” Nyota said politely. She made herself look away before she could stare. She hadn’t seen an Orion in years and couldn’t help but be fascinated.

“Really? I was just saying that. I didn’t mean it.” The other woman sat down heavily on one of the bunks and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, um, we’re roommates. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to start off on the wrong foot.”

Her roommate lifted her feet up and held each one in front of her face in turn, squinting suspiciously. “Which one?”

“It’s an expression,” Nyota said carefully, placing her bag on the other bunk and sitting on the edge. “It means that it’s not a good way to begin our relationship.”

“Oh. You’re sure you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Yes. I don’t mean any offense,” she added quickly, unsure of how Orions took these things.

“I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t want to have sex with me, so I’m sure you’ll change your mind at some point,” she said pleasantly. “But thank you for turning me down. It feels good. I thought I’d take this bed, since I just slept with Cadet Johnson on it. Slept with? Is that the correct idiomatic use? My dictionary isn’t very helpful, since we didn’t sleep. My name is Gaila, by the way.”

Nyota took a deep breath and unzipped her bag, the smell of home emanating from her clothes. 

“Maybe we should talk about some ground rules,” she said and Gaila curiously looked at the floor. “Some standards of behavior we can agree on, I mean.”

“Ok,” Gaila said cheerfully. “Can I watch you unpack before we write regulations on the carpet? I don’t own any belongings, I’m curious what cadets with homes, and families bring.”

…

 

“It’s like a donut,” Nyota said, handing over half of the mandazi.

“It’s not circular. And the center is not arbitrarily missing.” Gaila ate it carefully and nodded. “That was good.”

Nyota opened the matoke, the familiar scent washing over her like her mother’s hug. “And this- stop!” She pulled the container back as Gaila dipped two fingers into the spicy plantains. 

Gaila smacked her lips for a moment after tasting it and shrugged. “Not quite as good. And my hands are clean. I washed them after I put them in Cadet Snevet’s-“

“Stop, please.” Nyota got up and grabbed silverware from the drawer in the dorm’s small kitchen. “Use this.”

Gaila held the spoon up in front of her, before pouring a bit of water in it and taking a small sip. “Like this? Yes?”

Nyota reached out and gently adjusted her grip, then demonstrated eating some matoke off of it. 

“Spoon,” Gaila said around a large bite of her own. “Companion of knife and fork. Used by humans to consume food. Completely pointless.”

“How do you eat soup without one? Or ice cream?”

Gaila looked at her, confused for a moment. “We ate ration bars.”

Nyota put her own spoon down. “Your whole life?”

“Yes. When I got to Earth, they gave me a sandwich. It was vile. This is good, though. Mushy. Yum. Are all Terran food like this?”

“No, there’s a wide variety. I’ll take you to get ice cream. And soup. And there’s a lot of other choices from other planets as well, in the mess hall.”

“I don’t want to eat in a dirty hall, you know? Everything else is so clean around here.”

“No, it’s-“ Nyota thought about how to explain, then figured it would probably just be easier to take Gaila there. She put away the last of the matoke and they walked across the campus together. Gaila greeted no less that eight cadets and two instructors by name. 

“We’ve only been here a day! How do you know everyone already?”

“I have lots of practice with names and faces. Look at them. They’re cute. Think they want to get messy in the hall with us?” Gaila perked up a bit when they entered. “Oh, it is clean!”

“You haven’t been here yet?”

“I still have ration bars. They’re under my bed, though I have been sharing them with some insect life. My interspecies counselor said that sharing is important on Earth. It feels nice.”

Nyota paused in scooping a bowl of ice cream and just looked at Gaila. 

“That’s cold!” Gaila stuck her finger with a blob of vanilla on it into her mouth and then smiled. “And sweet!”

“Here, try some of this. Yon-savas, it’s a fruit from Vulcan. And this is kaasa, though they made it into a syrup and it’s normally juice. I like both of them on vanilla.”

“I’m glad they don’t have Orion food here,” Gaila said, sitting across from Nyota with a decidedly larger bowl of ice cream than hers. “How do you know so much? Your family must have been very rich to afford so many different kinds of food.”

“No, uh,” Nyota took a small bite. “We traveled a lot.”

“I bet you met lots of interesting people,” Gaila said. 

“Yes, it was great. One of the reasons I came to Starfleet, actually. Some of the people I met work here, actually. And my brother is serving on the Eisenhower.” Nyota looked across the mess hall at table of officers, their gold, blue and red shirts standing out against the cadet uniforms. As she had since she arrived, she searched them over, focusing on a science officer with dark hair. But no, she thought, too short and too human.

“I don’t have any brothers,” Gaila said, interrupting her thoughts. “I have 46 sisters, though.”

“Wow. I have one.”

“That must be lonely.” Gaila reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry. What happened to the rest?”

“Nothing. My parents just had us three.”

“Oh.” Gaila put most of a scoop of ice cream in her mouth and considered Nyota carefully before swallowing. “No wonder you had so much food. I’m going to try all of it while I’m here. Cadet Orleen suggested whipped cream. Have you had it before? Can ice cream be substituted?”

Nyota eyed her own bowl before pushing it towards Gaila. “Sort of. Seems too cold, though. Here, you can have mine, too.”

…

Kamau had been tight lipped about the first few weeks of the Academy. “It’s fun!” he had said when she received her acceptance letter. “It’s hellish,” he confided over a bottle of beer a few weeks later. “It’s the time when you’ll make your best friends,” had been his final promise, they day before she left.

It was all three of those, Nyota decided, her feet aching in her running shoes and sweat dripping off her nose.

“Just don’t feel it,” Gaila said with a perky smile. Her curls bounced around her face as they rounded the track. Nyota had lost count of the laps she had completed, though the Lieutenant with the clipboard and stopwatch showed no indication of letting them stop. 

“I can’t just not feel it,” Nyota panted. She was athletic, damn it, and in good shape. Kamau had conveniently left out the fact that the recommended fitness guidelines were apparently a joke.

“Sure you can. I can,” Gaila said, speeding up and turning to run backwards so she could talk to Nyota more easily. She eyed Nyota’s sweaty t-shirt, then turned to look at the other cadets running alongside them. “I would recommend sweating less, as well. It’s unbecoming on humans. I don’t know why you all insist on it.”

“I can’t not sweat.” Nyota wiped her face on her sleeve and took a quick look at Cadet Torelli and Cadet Iverson on the other side of Gaila. It wouldn’t do to make a poor impression, she thought, regardless of the situation. A number of officers were sharing the track with them, mostly medical and science and Nyota had looked carefully at them in their blue shirts on her previous lap. She didn’t know who was watching and prided herself on her appearance, no matter how often she proved herself with her mind. “How-?”

“Just control it,” Gaila said, touching her stomach below her navel, and a hand to the small of her back. “Of course.”

“So you can just not feel it?” Nyota pulled out her small bottle of water from her waist band and took the last sip from it. 

“Of course I can feel and not feel what I wish. It’s my body, isn’t it?” Gaila looked incredulous. “It’s a really important skill to cultivate, so you can not feel when-“ Nyota was sure she was echoing Gaila’s look of confusion. The other woman’s face fell slightly and she jogged in silence for a moment. “I guess you wouldn’t know about that,” Gaila said and sped up.

She lapped Nyota only moments later and handed over her still full water bottle. “Only a couple more,” she said, suddenly cheerful again. “I told the Lieutenant that when we stopped I had a question for him about the Academy’s physical fitness requirements and asked if I could get some personal training.”

“That seems very suspect,” Nyota said, opening Gaila’s water and drinking deeply. “But thank you.”

…

“Academic quad?”

“No.”

“Professor’s offices?”

“No.”

“Lecture halls?”

“No.”

“Shuttlecrafts?”

“If they’re empty.”

“Starfleet should advertise its lack of interesting and available places to have sex,” Gaila griped. 

“There’s more here than just that,” Nyota said, unpacking a set of styluses and arranging them on her desk. She saw Gaila looking at them and held out a purple one.

Gaila took it, examining it closely, before finally smiling.

“Are these often used as sex toys?”

“No! That sounds really uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” Gaila traced her fingers over it. “Can I use it for my classes and homework, then? Even though that’s boring?”

“Yes. Please use it for that.”

“You can borrow my vibrators,” Gaila said. “I got my monthly allowance from the Academy and picked up some new ones. I had to leave the rest behind when I left the clan, and I miss them. I had this one-“

“Thank you,” Nyota said quickly. “That’s very kind.”

“Sharing is caring,” Gaila said solemnly. 

…

“Why are you taking apart our lock?” Nyota pulled off her running shoes in the hall, since apparently she wasn’t getting in her room any time soon.

“You shouldn’t work out so much. Men like curves.”

“Thanks for the tip, but I don’t want to watch Lauper run past me on a fitness test again. That was humiliating.” Nyota took her socks off too, for good measure. “What are you doing.”

“Coding our door for our bioprints. The security on these access codes are a joke and I don’t want anyone taking my stuff. I like my stuff, now that I have it, and I like yours too. Thanks for the socks, by the way.”

“Gaila!”

“Touch here.” Gaila pressed her own hand against a new sensor she had installed, then motioned for Nyota to copy her. 

“How do you know how to do that?”

“I didn’t get into Starfleet because I had sex with the admissions counselor,” Gaila said, sounding affronted. “I mean, I did have sex with her, but only afterwards.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” Nyota said. “I thought you were interested in warp technology, not computers.”

“Eh,” Gaila said. “That’s what happens when you’re busy listing where I can’t have sex.”

“You asked!”

Gaila smiled and snapped the lock back together with surprising speed. “I’m deciding between Computer Sciences and Warp Technology. Maybe both. If I can’t do it in the Assembly Hall, and the mess hall is off limits, I’ll have much more free time in my hands.”

“On your hands. Don’t ever let me underestimate you. Also, please take off my socks.”

…

“Fuck,” Nyota said, dodging back through the door and bumping into Gaila. This was going to happen at some point, and Nyota just wished it hadn’t been so soon. “Fuck.”

“Verb. To have sexual intercourse. Used alone or as a noun in various phrases to express anger, annoyance, contempt, impatience, or surprise, or slightly for emphasis.” Gaila looked up from the Standard dictionary Uhura had loaded onto her padd. “I like that word. Fuck.”

“It’s also a curse word, so don’t go throwing it around,” Nyota said, standing with her back against the wall and willing herself to muster some of the courage that had seen her through many more trying situations. Her face felt warm and when she pressed her hands against the wall behind her, she swore she could feel the scrape of rocks and the smooth skin of hot shoulders. Kamau had said the Academy was huge, and he rarely saw many of the other cadets, much less other members of Starfleet who generally worked elsewhere. She had taken him at his words and the odds of running into-

“Hey,” Gaila said, glancing at Nyota, then out the door at the knot of officers. “Why are you throwing around a curse word?”

“I just…” Nyota pushed her back towards the stairs they had just come down. She felt a slow twisting in her stomach she chose to believe was hunger. “I don’t want to go out that way. Have you eaten yet? Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

She wasn’t, but she had just spotted a suspiciously tall, lean officer standing outside of Muir Hall and couldn’t… just couldn’t go that way. She dragged Gaila to the mess hall and they swiped their cards, Gaila chatting the whole way. 

“Fuck around, fuck up, fuck someone over, fuck me, fuck off, fuck up, fuckable, fucked, fucker, fuckhead, fucking, fuckwit. I’m not sure all of these make sense,” Gaila said to the surprised Andorian serving pizza. Nyota piled her plate with salad and gave the scandalized man a small, apologetic smile. Gaila grabbed a popsicle, a bowl of sprinkles, and a large dollop of sour cream, mashing it into a multi-colored soup as they sat down.

“What is that?” Gaila asked, pointing at Nyota’s salad. She reached out, touched the dressing, and shifted through the lettuce, picking up a couple of pieces and turning them over. “I don’t think that’s edible.”

“It’s salad. It’s healthy.” Nyota pulled her plate out of Gaila’s range and speared a tomato. 

“It’s so green!” Gaila said, reaching over again and picking up cucumber. “Yuck!” She spit it onto the table, half chewed. Nyota grabbed a napkin and handed it to her with a pointed look. 

“Gaila, you’re green.”

“So?” She pointed at Nyota’s salad with an offended finger. “I would still not eat that. Fucking gross.”

“That was good!” Nyota nodded. “You’re a quick study.” 

They ate in silence for a few moments, Nyota’s brain churning so loud she was surprised Gaila couldn’t hear it.

“Why didn’t you want to walk across the quad? My interspecies advisor said that humans avoid unpleasant situations. Though, you seem to be eating that ‘salad’, so that can’t be true.” Maybe Gaila could hear her thoughts after all, Nyota thought, and forced herself to swallow. 

“It was nothing. I was hungry and just realized that if I didn’t eat now I wouldn’t have time since I want to go to the Xenolinguistics Club introductory meeting tonight.”

Gaila put down her spoon and fixed Nyota with a look. “When we created our rules and pressed our palms together in a human ritualistic ceremony-“

“We shook hands, Gaila.”

“- I thought we were prepared to be friends. You gave me a stylus.” Gaila looked unaccountably sad, and pulled her bowl towards herself, curling around it. She looked more miserable than when Nyota had proposed neither of them have sex in the room.

“We are friends. Or at least heading there,” Nyota said, unsure of what she had done and how to rectify the situation.

“I told you about Cadet Johnson. And Cadet Kias’Hu. And Cadet Bjyorak. And Lieutenant Commander-“

“Ill advised, by the way.”

“But I was honest with you and you weren’t hungry, you just didn’t want to walk that way. I can smell it.”

“Smell it? Is that an idiom you’re trying out?”

“No,” Gaila said, looking confused as well as hurt. “I can smell it. Like how you’re excited about selecting courses, which is nuts, believe me, or that you totally think Cadet Torelli is hot.”

“I do not!”

“Don’t lie!” Gaila looked close to tears. “You shouldn’t do that.”

Nyota took a deep breath and put down her fork. “You can smell all that,” she said, looking at Gaila, who nodded. “Can all Orions?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You must have a very honest society,” Nyota said. “If you can tell all those things about another person.”

“No.” 

“Uh, ok. I guess, maybe, it’s hard for humans to always be honest with themselves. And we can’t sense it as easily in each other.”

“That seems confusing,” Gaila said, but picked up her spoon again and took a large bite. “No wonder Cadet Bjyorak didn’t know he wanted to try handcuffs until we did.”

“Maybe we should talk about that,” Nyota said carefully, clearly imagining a situation where she was bailing Gaila out of the dean’s office for sexual infractions. “But I didn’t mean to lie and I didn’t mean to cause you any offense. I think it might take a while to learn each other’s cultures.”

“So you do find Torelli attractive,” Gaila said.

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Nyota thought of his dark eyes and broad shoulders, but made herself stop when Gaila took a distinct sniff. 

“He’s not that good in bed, I should warn you,” she said, sprinkling salt and pepper over her meal. “Not very inventive.”

“Um, ok. I don’t think I was going to sleep with him anyway, but thanks for letting me know.”

“Well now if you do, you’ll be prepared.” Gaila nodded, as if she had just done Nyota a favor.

“Thanks?” Nyota said. She was unsure of if she appreciated the advice, but glad that Gaila didn’t seem mad anymore.

“So what about walking across the quad?” Gaila scraped the last of her food out of the bowl and licked her spoon in a way that made the Andorian food server’s antennae stand up. 

Oh. That. Nyota weighed that moment and the cold pit of dread in her stomach, against the continued wrath of a roommate with no dearth of sexual partners to mess up her sheets. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” she hedged and Gaila shook her head.

“I also told you about Cadet Loury and his-“

“Ok, ok.” Nyota took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “But don’t tell anyone.”

“I will mimic a representation of a Christian religious symbol over my equivalent of a human vascular muscle,” Gaila said seriously. “Alternatively, I will say an oath as we link the smallest fingers of our dominant hands.”

“No, that’s ok,” Nyota said quickly. She gave up on her salad and pushed the plate away. “My father is in the Diplomatic Corps,” she started, since the beginning was a good place for any story, and this one was no exception. “And we traveled a lot when I was younger, and I continued to go with them until I started college a few years ago. That’s how I got interested in xenolinguistics, meeting different people and seeing different planets. And a couple years ago-“ Nyota paused and pushed herself to be honest. “Three years ago, actually, I was with my family, and there was this guy-“

“Let me guess, you had sex with someone you shouldn’t have,” Gaila said, examining the pepper grinder. “And you’re human and you regret it.”

“I- yes. How did you know?”

“Most humans are confused about their sexuality. It seems like a complicated topic for you all.” Gaila easily popped the top off the grinder and looked at the small black flecks inside. She didn’t seem terribly impressed, though she was at least listening. “But it shouldn’t be that big a deal, should it?” 

“It’s a big deal to me. He’s an officer now, and I don’t want it to affect my career. I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but it’s complicated being a female subordinate who had a sexual relationship with a superior officer.”

“Hmmm,” Gaila said, eyeing Nyota again. She apparently had more important questions than hierarchical sexual power, since the next words out of her mouth were, “was it good?” 

Nyota wanted to cover her face. “Yes.”

“And he’s at Starfleet?”

“Yes. Graduated just last year, top of his class, I heard.”

“He’s human? I’m still learning about humans, but some of them can be fun, despite confusing cultural norms. I bet you’ve only done it with humans. Which is boring.”

“Um, yes.”

“It is with the exchange of honesty that we can begin the exchange of friendship,” Gaila said in Orion and Nyota was pleased she could understand it. 

“He’s not fully human,” Nyota said slowly. “He’s half Vulcan.”

“Oh,” Gaila said. “Oh. Kinky. They mind-meld during sex, right? Isn’t that one of the big secrets about them no one’s supposed to know? That they’re excellent lays and we should all be so lucky?” Gaila finally looked interested and Nyota felt herself nodding. “I did it with a Betazoid once, but man, if that had gone both ways…” Gaila pierced Nyota with a look. “Probably knocked the shoes off of any previous experience.”

“Socks,” Nyota corrected automatically. “And, um, it was my first time, more or less. More. And his too. With a human. So no real comparison.”

“And since then?”

“No real comparison,” Nyota said softly, closing her eyes against the memory. “Despite repeated efforts to the contrary.”

“And you’re not going to do it again since humans have significant sexual hang-ups regarding males in superior rolls and subordinate females, despite that being excellent roll playing material that many engage in.” Nyota nodded. “And I’m sure you’re not one to sleep around outside of a relationship, or you would have taken the invitation from myself and Cadet Pearilla much better.” Nyota nodded again and opened her eyes to see Gaila thoughtfully running her finger through some pepper she had poured into her other hand.

“So, you had sex with a young, virginal, impressionable half-Vulcan, who mind-melded with you, probably gave you a zillion orgasms, who you never thought you’d see again, and is now a decorated graduate, a superior officer, and even though you’re not interested in a romantic relationship with him, he rocked your world in a way that you can’t forget,” Gaila said carefully, checking to make sure she had gotten the facts straight. 

“Basically.”

Gaila sat back in her chair and looked triumphant. She put the handful of pepper in her mouth and swallowed. “Fuck,” she said. “That’s great. I want to hear all about it. You and I are going to be best friends with a story like that.”


	3. Chapter 2

“Cadet Uhura,” Spock said. “I had thought it your intention to serve in the Diplomatic Corps.” She had seen him walking across the quad, his tall form cutting through crowds of cadets, but she had squared her shoulders and continued on her way to the linguistics building. Despite being reconciled to meeting him, the suddenness with which he appeared next to her on the steps made her start. “You are meeting with your academic advisor?”

It wasn’t really a question, since she was sure he remembered every moment of his own orientation week, and surely he knew that’s why she was here. He opened the door for her and motioned her in ahead of him. 

“Yes, um, Professor Uley,” Nyota said, her back straight. She smiled at him, hoping it was one of fond greeting, before wondering if that wasn’t the best approach.

He simply nodded and motioned to a staircase to her left. “Office 234.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, holding up her padd with the appointment listed.

“Of course,” he echoed and tucked his hands behind his back. She was uncertain whether it was a dismissal or he was simply waiting for her to speak. She couldn’t imagine walking away now, three years of distance hanging between them, any more than she could imagine striking up a friendly conversation as other cadets and a few instructors walked through the lobby around them.

“Did you-“

“I haven’t-“

They both paused and Nyota realized she didn’t know what she had been going to say. “I hadn’t planned on Starfleet,” she finally blurted, her brain seizing on his initial comment in her haste to break the silence.

“You were recruited.”

“Yes, sir,” Nyota said, since it seemed better than asking if he had looked her up.

“I had dinner with your brother at the beginning of his shore leave. He informed me you would be a member of the incoming class and of Starfleet’s recognition of your linguistic ability.”

“Oh. He didn’t mention that to me.” She looked down at the padd in her hand. “I’m studying High Romulan this semester.” Her voice sounded strained to her ears.

“A fine choice, considering your proficiency in Vulcan.”

She remembered a few things she had said to him in Vulcan and quickly looked away.

“Yes, thank you. I’m looking forward to the beginning of classes.”

“Indeed.” He tipped his head towards his own padd. “You must excuse me. I’m testing a new program for universal translators for my assignment on the USS Lexington.” She looked at him carefully and thought maybe he was taller, or maybe he was just standing up straighter than he ever had before.

“Oh, that’s great. I didn’t realize you had received a posting so soon. Congratulations.” 

“Thank you,” he said solemnly. “We are leaving Spacedock imminently, so I will wish well on your time at the Academy.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Good luck out there.”

“Luck is illogical, and therefore wishing me luck is unnecessary,” he said and she couldn’t help but smile. He gave her a brief nod before stepping towards the acoustic engineering offices, annexed in the linguistics building. “Cadet.”

“Lieutenant.” She watched him walk away and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The Lexington. He’d be gone for months, if not for years, if her brother’s deployments were any indications. 

She turned towards Professor Uley’s office with a lighter step. 

…

Nyota dropped her bag on the floor between their bunks as Gaila looked up from her padd. A diagram of a warp coil was on her desk, Gaila’s green fingers tracing it like Nyota would a new pair of Rigellian boots. 

“Are you upset?” Gaila asked, taking a deep sniff. 

“No, I’m…” Nyota wasn’t sure what she was. “I saw Lieutenant Spock and talked to him, and now that’s over. We can all move on.”

“Good. I want to introduce to you Cadet Barrett. Not so different from Torelli, but I haven’t even slept with him yet!” Gaila looked at her seriously. “I can, though. Just say the word.”

“No thank you,” Nyota said, still thinking about Spock. 

“How’d it go with the Lieutenant? I saw Loury this morning, and he did not want to speak to me. You would think, after I had my hand in his-”

“It was just so surreal to see him again and I was trying not to say anything stupid the whole time.” Nyota said quickly. She related the encounter as she hung up her jacket and put away her bag.

“Reuniting with past sexual partners can be emotionally taxing for humans,” Gaila mused, tapping her chin with her fingers.

“Well, yes. Though not for him. Or maybe not for him. But it can be awkward not to know where you stand with someone you’ve been so close to. Three years is a long time and I’ve changed a lot. I mean, last time I saw him I propositioned him. And the times before that, I was a child, basically. This time, I was trying to figure out how to fit in a morning run with my class schedule.” Nyota pulled out her hair tie and thought back to their conversation. “He’s changed a lot too, I think.”

“I bet awkward reunion sex is even better than awkward first time sex. You know? It’s like you’ve already broken in the Equus ferus-“

“Horse-“

“-and you get to enjoy the ride.” 

Nyota threw her pillow at her and it bounced off Gaila’s shocked face.

“Sorry!” she said, sure she had committed some inter-species conflict akin to being dishonest. 

“I saw that on a holovid!” Gaila grabbed the pillow and threw it back. “We should be in our underwear!” Nyota just groaned and put her face in her hands. 

“He’s leaving tomorrow? The next day? So you talked to him briefly, and he’s all ‘Good morning, Cadet, I’m a sexually repressed Vulcan who’s secretly a wild-cat between the sheets,’ and you’re all ‘Good morning, Lieutenant. Glad to say that I’m also sexually repressed and you were the best lay of my life. Let’s move on and just be colleagues since I like dissecting the Romulan subjunctive more than getting my rocks off,’ and he’s like, ‘that’s fine with me, Cadet, I was worried you might want to jump back in the sack and have kinky telepathic sex all afternoon, but I have to go program a bunch of computers I find sexier than you.’ That’s how it went, right?”

Nyota put the pillow over her face and laughed and laughed. 

Gaila certainly thought she was unhinged, since she continued. “Humans are a bit crazy. I’ve never met another species that is so emotional about sex.”

“Well,” Nyota said, taking a breath to calm herself and sitting down on her bunk to pull off her boots. “I think it runs deep in Vulcans too. They don’t go around sleeping with just anyone.”

“He boned you,” Gaila pointed out.

“Where are you getting this stuff? Also, we were friends. And he was mad at his father. And had just broken up with his bondmate. And was about to leave his home planet for the first time.” She held her boot in her hand, staring into space. “Maybe I took a little bit of advantage of him,” she said, thinking again about their encounter only hours previous. 

“He was what, in his early twenties? You hardly compromised his virtue,” Gaila said. “I bet he wanted it and didn’t know how to ask. I bet he had been thinking about it for ages and was thinking about it today.”

“He was so not. He was thinking about universal translators and I was stammering about Romulan.”

“I want to smell him,” Gaila said. “I bet he smells great.”

“You probably shouldn’t go around smelling officers. Also, I’m not sexually repressed.”

“Sure.” Gaila bounced on her bed and gave Nyota a knowing grin. 

“I am not!”

“So you have sex at the foot of the bed sometimes?”

“Gaila!” Nyota threw the pillow at her again.

“Tell me about the Lieutenant and your wild sexual history, then.”

“Only you can make a rank sound so dirty.”

“Ensign. Commander.” Gaila smiled. “Admiral.”

“Oh, stop it. I’ll spill the beans.”

“Please don’t. I have a neurotically neat roommate. She’d get upset.”


	4. Chapter 3

Gaila sat crosslegged at the end of Nyota’s bunk. 

“I’ve never even told my sister,” Nyota said, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. “I promised I wouldn’t, actually.”

“So that makes you a horrible person,” Gaila replied, happily settling in for the story. “Or, it shows that we change and that maybe you need to talk to someone about the fact that you hid in the lobby of a building rather than walk outside and greet him the other day. And that if you’re going to work with him someday, you better get this off your chest so you stop saying stupid things that’s going to make him want to sleep with you again.”

Nyota had to think about it for a moment, but decided that she liked Gaila’s brand of logic. And even the part of her that didn’t, the part that remembered cool water and their promise, felt the words bubbling up, unbidden. “Ok,” she said at last. “But don’t tell.”

…

 

“Don’t tell.”

His voice was so human, Nyota would think later, and at odds with his pointed ears and upswept brows. Her small hand had closed over the juice cup she had left behind, one that she wasn’t supposed to be drinking out of unsupervised because it was glass and her last one had broken. It was Makena’s fault it broke in the first place and Nyota had already turned her aural sensitivity into selected hearing when the situation necessitated it, and ignored her mother’s insistence that she use plastic. Kamau didn’t, and Spock didn’t, and Makena laughed at her across the table at the Vulcan Embassy when her dishes were different than the others.

Spock was different too, she knew.

The green blood clotted in the washcloth he held against his lip and he used his other hand to smooth dirt off his school robes.

“I won’t,” she whispered, since she didn’t yet have the words that she would have wished to say to him. 

…

When she did have the words, on her family’s second trip to Vulcan, Spock had lost much of that little human boy. 

Nyota had grown to love the trips she took with her family, shivering on Andoria, meeting Tellarites, and Trills. Already she had begun to count out the syllables of alien speech on her fingers as she listened, standing behind her father’s legs. 

She had met an Orion once, a free Orion as her father had said, leaning down to look her in the eye. There was a difference and that night Nyota sneaked her brother’s padd off his bedside table in their small, assigned quarters at the Interstellar Comparative Culture Conference and read everything she could find. The words she didn’t know, she looked up, and by the time the double suns rose, turning their room pink and gold, she had mastered a few words of swirling Orion script. “Doodles,” Nyota had said through a yawn when her parents found her notes. She liked that word and wasn’t ready to share her newest language yet.

Kamau spent most of his time on those trips playing games on his padd, the tiny recorded voice shouting ‘firing photon torpedos!’ as animated explosions flared across the screen. Makena was, as a rule, bored. She typed long messages to friends back on Earth and sighed dramatically when their parents assigned her to look after Nyota. 

Nyota never thought her cruel, not really, but Nyota loved the people they met and Makena rolled her eyes and compared them all to the home she missed.

“They’re unnatural,” Makena whispered at the dinner hosted by the Vulcans, shooting Sarek and his son a look. “Robots.”

“They’re just different,” Nyota said, pushing her pigtails back over her shoulder and swinging her legs. She could almost touch the floor with her toe, if she shifted slightly. 

She liked different. She wanted to be more different sometimes, since that would mean being less like Makena.

“Creepy.” 

“He can probably hear you, they have really good hearing,”

“Just like you. You’re creepy too.”

“Stop!” 

Sarek looked at her then, across the function hall milling with ambassadors, members of the Diplomatic Corps, support staff, and other children like themselves, dragged along on their parent’s work trips. He shook his head, just a little, as if he already knew that Nyota was thinking of the good shove she wanted to give her sister. Spock was staring at them and Sarek put his hand on his son’s shoulder and steered him away.

Makena didn’t see what Nyota did. Maybe Sarek wanted to give Makena a shove too, she thought, kicking the rung of her chair. 

…

“I want to play!” 

Kamau held the ball above her head, making Nyota futilely jump to try to reach it. She managed to cling to his arm for a second, even the lighter gravity on Aldebaran III no match for how short she was. 

“You don’t know how,” Kamau grinned. “Go find Makena and play with dolls.”

“That’s so stupid!” Nyota jumped again and this time succeeded in touching the nubby side of the orange ball. 

“You’re so stupid.”

Nyota had spent the morning reading Kamau’s Adventures of Altarian Space Pirates comic and hadn’t had to look up a single word. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Spock,” Kamau called, bouncing the ball neatly around Nyota to the other boy. Nyota hadn’t noticed him standing there, but there were only a handful of other children at the meeting and they had been told in no uncertain terms to not interrupt the grown ups. Spock had mostly avoided Nyota and Makena, and Nyota had seen him bent over a chess board the few times she had glimpsed him. Now, however, he stood running his hands curiously over the orange ball. 

“The purpose of this game is to place this ball into the circular ring positioned on the wall?”

“Yep! No girls allowed.”

“Misogynistic!” Nyota yelled at Kamau’s back as her brother ran across the court, bouncing lightly in the low gravity. 

Kamau’s eyebrows shot up and he gaped at her. “What?”

“You’re a misogynist!”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not stupid. And I want to play.”

Spock handed her the ball when she approached him. “Your sister is elucidating the fact that you saw her gender as a reason unfit to participate.”

“Elucidate?”

“Don’t misconstrue my adroitness.”

“Walking, talking thesaurus,” Kamau said, grabbing one of her pigtails. “Junior genius.”

“Ow!” Nyota rubbed her head and glared at him. “Don’t touch my hair!”

“Are you going to elucidate to mom? C’mon, junior genius, and you, Spock. I’ll teach you how to play.”

…

“Kahs-wan,” Nyota said carefully. She had heard the word bandied around the halls of Spock’s house in the week they were stuck there, waiting for the ion storm to pass and their transport back to Earth. The diplomatic quarters were full of other stranded travelers and the Uhura’s had been invited to the Ambassador’s house. Learning Vulcan was a welcome distraction from the sand and heat, and she practiced as I-Chaya snuggled deeper into her lap. 

“Tun-bosh,” Spock said from the doorway, pointing at the long fang next to her knee. “Be careful. I-Chaya does not like-“

“I know what tun-bosh means,” she said, frowning and running her hand through the sehlat’s fur. “I am careful. He likes me.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Doubtful.”

I-Chaya yawned and rolled over slightly so Nyota could bury her fingers in the soft fur on his belly. She glared at Spock. 

“What does kahs-wan mean? And what is koon-ul? And who is T’Pring? And what is a mashya?”

“You are quite inquisitive,” Spock said. 

“I don’t talk as much as Makena does,” Nyota said, hugging the sehlat. Not that Makena talked to her much, just spent hours on her padd. Or Kamau, since he had school work and didn’t want to play Space Pirates with Nyota. Or their parents, busy as they were at the Embassy.

“No, you speak 34.6 percent more frequently.”

“You didn’t answer my questions. Deshker. Question.” She said it in Vulcan twice more in her mind before repeating it in Adorian and Orion.

Spock tapped his leg, a clear signal to I-Chaya, who yawned again and pushed his ears into Nyota’s hand for a scratch.

“I-Chaya. Come.”

“If you don’t tell me I’m going to look it up.”

“A mashya is a type of vegetable,” Spock said, walking over to grab the sehlat’s collar. “I-Chaya, now.”

“Don’t!” Nyota grabbed it back. “He’s my friend!”

Her hand closed over Spock’s, his skin hotter and drier than she expected. 

I-Chaya sleeping on the foot of his bed, listening to his parent’s raised voices down the hall, the sehlat greeting him after school and licking his face as he hugged him, since no one was around to tell him not to, then pushing the sehlat away in case someone still saw. Having him sit on the other side of a chessboard so that it wouldn’t seem as empty, Spock moving the pieces of both colors. Putting his face in his fur after Sarek reprimanded him for fighting at school. Throwing I-Chaya a stick as he had seen humans do with their dogs. The sehlat’s nose on Spock’s hand when groups of children walked by, not turning to look at him, invite him along, Nyota brushing I-Chaya’s fur and telling him he was a good boy in Trill and Tellarite and Standard.

He’s mine, Spock said clearly in her mind, a fierce wave of possessiveness making her grab her hand back.

She had seen, though, and she had heard his thoughts as a rush of words and imagines, lines of math and music strung out before her like bright talismans. “Estuhl irak-nahan,” Nyota said carefully, repeating one of the words she had heard in his mind. Touch telepathy.

“Tor-ri var-tor,” Spock whispered. He looked at the doorway, but no one was coming. “I apologize. I should not have-”

“I won’t tell,” she repeated back, echoing his Vuclan words in Standard. 

Spock slowly released his grip on the sehlat’s collar and straightened. She looked at I-Chaya, blinking against the pricks in her eyes and the sudden loneliness of her thoughts. She touched the sehlat’s soft nose and hugged him closer. “He’s my only friend here, too.”

Spock looked at her for a long time before sitting cross-legged beside her on the cool floor. “What other words would you like to know?”

“All of them,” she whispered. “I want to know them all.” 

…

The light from the monitor washed over the two boys and Kamau and Spock’s fighters chased each other along the surface of Ganymede. Nyota held a couch cushion against her chest, her fingers digging into the soft fabric with excitement as she watched.

“Ha!” Kamau shouted, firing a blast of phasers at Spock, lowering his shields until a yellow warning light blinked.

Spock didn’t hesitate, just rolled the joystick under his hand and his fighter climbed, twisting gracefully as his defenses recharged. He caught up to Kamau a moment later, locking on a photon torpedo while Kamau dipped and jimmied through a canyon, trying to shake him.

“Kamau,” M'Umbha called from the kitchen. “You have five more minutes. We have to leave for soccer.”

“Spock’s just getting good!” Kamau said, his eyes glued to the screen. He dipped under an rock arch and a moment later, Spock flew above it, his proximity sensor engaged as he kept Kamau in range of his torpedo. “Can we play later tonight?”

“Ambassador Sarek and your father will be back from Paris by dinner,” M’Umbha said, standing in the doorway now. “Spock can play with Nyota until then. You, mister, have practice.”

“Nyota’s horrible at this,” Kamau said and she kicked his shoulder where he sat next to her on the floor. “She doesn’t even know how to play.”

“Be nice to your sister,” her mom said, the admonition sounding rote. “And don’t kick your brother.” Nyota heard the faucet turn on and the gentle clink of dishes as her mother stepped back into the kitchen.

Spock finally chased Kamau out of the canyon and fired. Kamau’s fighter lit up like a firework and Nyota kicked him again, for good measure.

“Stop. Twerp.” Kamau grabbed the cushion from her and smacked her with it before she could raise her arms and wrestle it back.

“Kamau!” M’Umbha stood with her arms on her hips. “Now. Spock, keep an eye on Nyota. My comm number is on the fridge if you need anything. The field is right down the street, so you should be fine, and your mother will be back any minute.”

Kamau rolled off her, leaving Nyota huddled in the corner of the couch and she heard him pick up his cleats and her mother grab her keys. The door shut behind them and she released her cushion, plopping down on the floor next to where Spock sat.

“He hurt you?” Spock was staring at her.

“It was just a pillow.” She reached for Kamau’s controller and started flicking through the menu. “I like this fighter. Much faster and more agile. Less thruster power when you’re out of orbit, but most of the missions are within an atmosphere.”

“I thought you did not know how to play.”

Nyota rolled her eyes and pushed her hair back so she wouldn’t be distracted. 

“Is your sister returning?”

“She’s at her stupid friend’s house,” Nyota said, flicking through the available courses. 

She felt Spock look at her for a moment before picking up his own controller again. 

“I have no experience with this simulation before today. There is a high likelihood that your skills exceed my own.”

“Tun-bosh,” Nyota said solemnly. “Be careful or I’ll kick your butt.”

…

 

“T’Pring is boring,” Nyota said.

“You should not speak ill of others.” They were sharing a tricorder that her father lent them at Nyota’s insistence and had spent the morning climbing through the canyon behind the Embassy. 

“I was merely stating a fact,” she said, emulating his cadence as she scanned the dry creek bed. “She and Makena never want to do anything.”

“Aylak skin,” Spock said, pointing behind a rock.

“Like a lizard!” Nyota ran the tricorder over it and tilted the screen so he could see. 

Spock carefully shifted the rock, rolling it to the side and revealing a live aylak. It attempted to skitter away, but Spock grabbed it before it got far. It went still in his hand and Nyota reached out a finger to stroke its back. She avoided Spock’s skin, still shy, the memory of touching him a swirl of I-Chaya’s fur and Vulcan words in her mind.

They watched as the aylak darted over Spock’s wrist, jumped to his bent knee and landed on the creek bed, vanishing in a flash.

“It’s over there,” Nyota said, since she could hear it scrabbling under the rocks. Neither made any move to recapture it. 

She heard the voices before the other children appeared at the edge of the canyon, their robes silhouetted against the sun. 

“Do they play here too?” she asked Spock. He didn’t turn his head to look, just stood stiffly staring down at where the aylak had disappeared. 

“Vulcan children do not play,” he said.

“Oh.” She dug her toe into the loose dust under their feet and continued to look at the other children. They didn’t look away and neither did she. “Well, I’m glad your mom’s human, then. Otherwise you’d be as boring as the rest of them.” She squinted against the sunlight. “Maybe Makena is Vulcan.”

“Your sister is irrational and illogical. She does not possess qualities valued in Vulcan culture.”

“Don’t speak ill of others,” Nyota quipped and turned away from the children to smile at Spock. “Though that is certainly a fact.” She handed the tricorder to him and nodded farther down the canyon. “Let’s see what’s around the bend,” she suggested. 

Spock’s footsteps followed her readily.

…

“Krei’la,” Nyota said, watching Lady Amanda’s hands work against the dough. She had not been to Vulcan in some time and her diction was rusty, she was embarrassed to realize. “Biscuit. Kreila. Kreyla.” Three, she thought, tapping her finger on the counter each time she spoke. 

“Krei’la,” Spock said from the table where he had eight padds spread out before him and a schematic of the Rigel System. “The other pronunciations are not used in Shi’Kahr.”

“I know,” Nyota said quickly. Spock was busier on this visit, and Nyota had been surprised to realize that she missed him, a little. “You’re not my teacher. I was just saying them.”

Lady Amanda smiled at them indulgently, and pulled a tray of the biscuits from the oven. She put one on a plate for Nyota, and one for Spock. “Here, your mother brought some honey from Earth,” she said, opening the small container. “It’s too sweet for Vulcans, so we can share it.”

Spock’s hand twitched back from the honey, a movement so small that Lady Amanda didn’t see it as she turned back to the oven, but Nyota was already an expert at noticing. It helped when replacing her sister’s makeup in the correct order so she would never know Nyota used it, or when listening to her brother’s hushed comm conversations with Saskia, which no one was supposed to know about and Nyota did.

Nyota ate her biscuit slathered with honey and Spock ate his plain. He looked at her plate once and Nyota noticed that too.

…

“I’m going to get a smile out of him,” Makena said, blotting her lipstick on a tissue.

“Don’t,” Nyota said. “It’s not fair to bait him like that.”

“What, are you gunning for Dad’s job?”

“Just don’t.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t get embarrassed.”

“But you want him to smile?”

“No, I want him to fuck me.”

Nyota knew she didn’t mean it, not really.

“What about Ahmet?” she asked. Her mouth still felt funny without braces and his name felt nice to say. Ahmet. Ahmet. 

Makena adjusted her bra and glared at her sister.

“Spock’s bonded.”

“Whatever. It’s not like they’re married. And he’s hot.” She pulled her hair up and admired herself in the mirror. “Don’t tell.”

Nyota lay awake in the dark, counting Romulan phonemes. When Makena slipped back into their room, the light from the hall in the diplomatic quarters was bright behind her for a moment before the door closed.

“So how’d that go? Get what you wanted from Spock?”

“Shut up.”

…

“I won’t tell,” she said, years later when she found him sitting on the porch of his parent’s house, the dust still settling in T’Pring’s wake. Nyota wasn’t supposed to have heard any of that, but it was hard in such a quiet place, none of bustle of home in this house high in the hills.

“Tell what?” Spock asked, rising and looking down at her. He was tall, but she had grown too, her legs longer and slimmer than Makena’s. Spock still slouched a little, like Kamau did, as if his new height was still an uncertainty. He wasn’t so different than the boys at home, she thought, bluster and bravado hidden under his cool features.

Phillip had said don’t tell, his soft, blonde hair falling around his forehead as he looked down at her, his forearms braced on either side of her shoulders. It was, in the end, the wrong words, and Nyota pushed him off before he could finish pushing into her. 

“Tease,” had been his next words, but she shrugged and pulled her shorts back up.

“Don’t tell. Really.” He put his hand on the doorknob to stop her leaving, the steady blare of music from downstairs beating against them and he looked a little shy, a little scared. “I don’t want anyone to know that we didn’t-”

“Oh, please,” she snapped, pushing past him, the feelings she had for him left behind as she rejoined her friends. 

Nyota had heard Spock and T’Pring’s words, and their silences, and as the other woman walked out, Nyota had seen Spock’s hand rise to his forehead and T’Pring’s disdainful air. 

“That you’re upset,” Nyota said and he looked at her hard for a moment, before leaving her alone under the mid-day sun.

…

Makena did Nyota’s hair carefully, drawing it up out of her face and letting the heavy braid fall down her back. “Gorgeous,” she declared. “I wish I hadn’t chopped all mine off.”

“I wish I had. It’s so hot here.”

“I wonder if Gabriel likes braids,” Makena sighed. 

“Don’t pull out his picture again. I’m going to throw up.”

Nyota pulled a shirt and shorts over her swimsuit while Makena covered hers with a sundress. They walked into the hall where Spock was already waiting for him.

“Too bad Kamau isn’t here,” Nyota said, taking the towel Spock handed her. “He always talked about seeing the pools after the spring rains.”

“He’s got his engines, or whatever. The coils.” Makena waved dismissively as they headed towards the flitter, Spock climbing in the driver seat. Makena buckled her safety belt and plugged her comm into the console, music rising from the speakers.

“That’s horrible,” Nyota said, leaning forward from the backseat to snatch the comm. “Let me put on something that doesn’t sound like dying whales.”

“The whales are all dead, dummy. And I like 2190s music. It’s catchy.”

“It lacks tonal sophistication,” Spock said coolly, sitting still as Makena glared at both of them. It was the most Nyota had heard him speak all day.

The comm chimed in Nyota’s hand and she flipped it open before Makena could grab it. “Someone’s got a call. He most be love struck, since we’re going home tomorrow,” she teased. “Hi Gabe. “

“Give that to me,” Makena hissed. Nyota leaned further away and batted at her sister’s hands.

“Oh, she’s busy, we’re having sister bonding time today. Yeah, we’re going swimming with a friend of ours.” Nyota grinned at her. “Definitely can’t talk.”

Spock raised an eyebrow as Makena reached for Nyota again. “Oh, you have subspace credits? Yeah, I’ll be sure to let her know that you could have video chatted. I’m sure she’ll be sorry to have missed you.”

Makena took off her safety belt and half climbed in the backseat before she could pin Nyota and grab the comm.

“Gabe! Hi!” She gave Nyota a look completely at odds with the brightness of her voice. “Yeah, I’m here. Ny’s being a- Oh! A video chat. Yeah, I’m home alone.” 

“That’s horrible!” Nyota hissed. “It’s not even your house!”

“Go without me,” Makena mouthed, climbing out of the flitter and bouncing back up the steps to the front door, her laughter ringing behind her.

“She- she…” Nyota didn’t know what she was going to say, so fell silent as she slid into Makena’s empty seat. “Let’s get out of here before we hear anything else.”

Nyota watched the desert fly by them as they headed towards the distant mountains. Spock had spoken less the last few times she had seen him, but he was unnaturally silent that afternoon and Nyota flipped through the radio stations for a distraction.

“I didn’t know that Vulcans went swimming,” she tried, finally. It would have been easier with Makena there, even with her incessant chatter about her new boyfriend.

“It is not common,” Spock said.

“Oh.” She looked out the window again. “I guess that there’s not much water around here,” she said, which sounded stupid even to her, and he didn’t respond, for which she was grateful.

“Will it be crowded?” she asked after a few quiet minutes.

“Most Vulcans have resumed school and work after the rains have passed.”

Nyota nodded. She knew that, actually, and wished she hadn’t asked. Spock was only free because orientation at Starfleet Academy hadn’t started yet. Kamau was in San Francisco, taking classes over the break, and Spock would join him in a matter of days. 

“Thanks for taking me,” she said into the silence.

Nyota wanted to sigh, but she just pressed her lips together instead, staring out the window. She was nervous about leaving for college when she got back to Earth, and she didn’t even have to go off planet and enter a new culture. She tried to imagine commiserating with Spock about that, but couldn’t find the words, so she just flipped the radio dial again, thinking of what to say.

“I guess Vulcan couples don’t have the distance problems human ones do,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “You know. Like Makena and Gabe.”

“I suppose not,” Spock said. He turned them from the main road onto a dirt track that twisted into the foothills and Nyota watched the occasional shrubby bushes give way to rock piles.

“Well that’s good for you and T’Pring,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. She didn’t really know how bonds worked, but imagined it must be nice to share something with someone so far away.

Spock didn’t say anything as he maneuvered the winding road, nosing slowly around a few blind corners. The terrain grew steeper, the rock walls around them occasionally opening onto views of valleys. The bottom of the canyons had small green plants, though she couldn’t identify them.

“It’d be nice to have a friend at Starfleet, even if she’s not really there,” Nyota said, pulling her face back from the window to look at him. 

His hands tightened on the controls and she felt the flitter speed up slightly. “We are not bonded,” he said sharply. His voice softened as he glanced at her open mouth. “Any more.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim,” Spock said. “There is no offense where none is taken.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“As I said, you do not need to apologize for your earlier assertion.”

“No,” she reached for him, unthinking, then drew her hand back. “I’m sorry that that happened. That must be really hard.”

“It is not uncommon,” he said, turning the flitter around a corner with less than his normal skill.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s common or not. Humans break up all the time. Look at Makena. That doesn’t make it easier,” she said. She turned down the radio and shifted to face him. “Would you like to talk about it?” She didn’t think that many Vulcans spoke of such things, but maybe Lady Amanda… No, Nyota couldn’t imagine Spock being comforted by anyone and wasn’t surprised when he shook his head.

She picked at her nails, scrapping at a bit of polish that was already chipping. She watched the road grow narrower still, and Spock slowed to almost a crawl before pulling the flitter over and engaging the break. 

“We must continue on foot,” he said. “It is not far.”

She followed him down the path, turning their conversation over in her head. It was hot and sweat dripped down her back as they walked. She was so distracted by her thoughts and the heat she nearly bumped into him when he came to an abrupt stop. 

“The rains often bring landslides,” Spock said and Nyota looked at the pile of rocks. “It is just on the other side.”

He climbed lightly to the top of the mound and to her surprise, reached back a hand to help her. He was strong, she thought dimly, as he easily pulled her up. It wasn’t until they scrambled down the other side that she realized how quiet his mind had been.

The pool was bright and clear, deep enough the bottom was distorted by the water’s refraction. She dropped her towel and toed off her shoes.

“It is beautiful,” she said, admiring the way the red and gold rocks framed the water. “It’s only like this for a few weeks?”

“Or less. The pools drain into the canyons we drove through.”

“They must evaporate quickly as well,” she said, pulling up the hem of her shirt to wipe her face. Spock was silent and when she glanced up, she caught him looking at her exposed stomach. She grinned at him. When she pulled off her t-shirt and shorts, Spock looked away quickly. 

He was scrawny, she thought as he dropped his own shirt. Skinny but maybe in a nice sort of way. 

She slid down the rocks towards the pool, bracing herself carefully as she dipped her foot in the clear water. It wasn’t too cold and she slipped in, the water cool and refreshing. 

Spock dove in from the top of the rocks, a practiced movement that made her wonder how often he came here. He stroked quickly to the other side of the pool before pushing off the far rocks and swimming back. 

Nyota ducked under the water, opening her eyes to the clear world underneath the surface and admired the way bubbles surrounded Spock as he swam. When she came up for air, she pushed wet hair back from her face and tossed her braid back over her shoulder.

“This is great,” she said, treading water and wiping her eyes. She floated on her back, her eyes closed against the sun as Spock swam close to her.

It was easier to talk to him like this, with the warm light on her face and no need to look at him.

“Spock? Is Starfleet why you and your father were fighting last night?”

Her ears were mostly submerged but she heard his movements stop.

“I did not think that you would be aware of that,” he said at last.

It was enough of an answer for her and she drifted for a long moment, listening to the movements of the water around her. 

“I’m sorry about T’Pring,” she said at last, wanting him to know she meant it. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just sorry it didn’t work out.”

When she turned to look over at him, he was closer than she expected, his eyes dark.

“I do not believe we were well suited for each other,” he said softly. 

Nyota wanted to ask what it was like without her, if it was quiet in his mind now, if he missed her. She thought back to his earlier silences, his terse words, and thought that maybe she knew.

“I bet you’ll love Starfleet. Kamau can’t stop talking about.” She treaded water, facing him, and trailed her fingers across the surface, sending ripples across the pool. “And the girls. He can’t stop talking about the girls.”

She smiled at him and was pretty sure he blushed before his expression became carefully blank again.

“You going to be asking Terran girls on dates?” she teased, since he looked nice when he was flushed and she preferred that to his stony silences earlier.

“Doubtful,” he frowned.

“Oh, they’ll be all over you,” she splashed her fingers through the water, smiling when he drew back from the droplets. “Makena used to have a massive crush on you.”

“That seems highly unlikely,” Spock said, still frowning.

“She just doesn’t understand you very well,” Nyota said, floating on her back again. “You’re an enigma. But she always thought you were cute.”

“Fascinating.”

She suddenly didn’t want to talk about her sister anymore and fell silent.

“I do not think that many understand me particularly well,” Spock said after a long silence.

“And people say Vulcans aren’t perceptive,” she said. “You’ll find someone else, probably a million times better than T’Pring.”

“I do not believe I understand the mathematical soundness of your assertion,” he said and she laughed.

They stayed in the water until Nyota’s hands began to prune. She told him about the Institute for Advanced Mathematics, chatting about the courses she was taking and her intended major. He said little, but listened attentively as they drifted in the pool.

“It’ll be really interesting, I think,” she said, holding onto a rock as she grew tired of treading water. “And I think I’ll still be able to study Benzian. And maybe Russian. Their alphabet is so interesting.”

“There are excellent Russian chess players,” Spock said. “I played against one who is little more than a child.”

“Did he beat you?” Nyota grinned.

Spock looked at her coolly. “No.”

It had been easier to slide in than it was to climb out. Spock managed skillfully, and Nyota watched the muscles in his back flex as he lifted himself onto a large rock. 

“Spock, give me a hand,” she said, after failing to pull herself up twice. He knelt and grabbed for her, helping lift her until her feet found solid rock. He held on to her hand as she rose to her feet beside him, water cascading off them both and pooling on the rocks under them. She felt the heat from sun start to dry her skin and the press of warmth coming off his body in waves. 

All at once, as her fingers shifted slightly on his, she could feel the cool air from her body near his, and saw the water dripping from her hair, her shoulders, between her breasts, and down her body as he watched it.

He dropped her hand as if burned and jerked his gaze from her.

“I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I am not used to touching others. I do not have much practice…I do not have any experience with… humans.” His voice was very low.

“I didn’t mean to impose,” she said softly.

“It was improper,” he said to his feet.

“Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim,” she said, echoing his words from earlier. “There is no offense where none is taken.”

“Lafosh,” he said. “It was a mistake. I apologize.” 

The Vulcan words pulled at something inside of her, something that had been stirred from the brush of his mind on hers. 

“We should go back,” she said softly, watching water drip from his wet hair.

“Indeed,” he said. She could hear him breathe a bit faster than normal.

“Are you curious?” she asked, realizing how close he was to her. 

“In regards to what assertion?” The sun shone on drops caught on his flat stomach.

She swallowed. “About humans?”

Water beaded on his pale shoulders and a drop slid over his bicep.

“Yes,” he whispered and she watched herself put out her finger to catch the drop. 

His skin was hotter than the heat from the sun and his eyes slid shut as she traced her finger up, over his collarbone. She spread her hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer. Her stomach twisted, dark and primal, and she moved towards him as if pulled.

He shifted so their bodies were almost touching. She raised her other hand and brushed her fingers over his. He slowly turned his hand over, pressing the pads of their fingers together, and Nyota felt a flush of heat run straight through her.

He opened his eyes, looked down at her hand in his, and swallowed as his gaze drifted back up her body to meet hers. A pounding impatience ran through their fingers towards each other they leaned forward and kissed. 

She felt a deep ache inside of him, one that made her run her hand over his shoulders, through his wet hair and step forward so she could press against him. His characteristic grace was nearly gone as they backed up towards the pile of towels, but he lowered her gently down, one hand on her waist, the other never leaving her fingers he leaned over her. She kissed him again, closing her eyes against the pressure of his mouth and the slick slide of his tongue. His hand was on her thigh, her arm, her hip, dragging her up against his body as her knee dropped to the side, allowing him to press more fully against her. 

Something unintelligible left her mouth when he dropped her hand and pulled away, but he brought his hands to her back and she felt him tug at the knot of her swimsuit.

“Is this acceptable?” he asked against her neck, then again, softer, pulling back to meet her eyes. “Is this admissible?” His voice was quiet and his eyes were gentle, even as their bodies strained against each other. 

“Oh, god, yes,” she said into his mouth and he resumed unknotting her top. He pulled it off easily, his hands going to her breasts and she arched against him, digging her nails into his shoulders. She gripped his slim waist with her knees and rocked her hips against him until his mouth fell open and he pushed back, the material between them a hindrance. 

“Please,” he said, dropping his hands to grip her waist, stilling her. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, some of the frantic energy leaving his frame. He was so still he didn’t seem to notice her dragging her nails down his wet back, until she scraped them under the edge of his trunks, the skin of his waist soft under her hands. He shivered and his hips jerked once, before she could push the material down.

She removed the rest of her bathing suit as well, the rocks hot against her skin through the towels, and his skin hot against hers as she raised her knees to his sides and gripped the back of his neck. 

His hands swept over her hips, her stomach, before one drifted lower, slicking against the wetness between her legs. She pushed her head back as he touched her, his mouth on her neck, her jaw, her ear. She gasped when he pushed a finger into her, exploring her gently as she squirmed under him. 

She grabbed at his waist, slipping her own hand down and taking him, hard and hot, stroking his length. His mouth left her throat at the motion and his fingers against her turned clumsy. 

He pulled on her thigh, drawing her leg up higher as he shifted towards her, his fingers slipping out of her. He gently grasped her wrist to stop her hand against him. 

“Please,” he said again, and she nodded, thinking he was asking for permission. But he gestured towards her face and she realized it was permission of a different sort.

He was panting lightly when she nodded again and he pressed his fingers to her face in a pattern she had seen from other Vulcans. At once, she saw and felt herself cool against him, the sun on his back, those sensations joining with the hard scrape of rocks under her and a shared anticipation arching between them. 

She groaned when he pushed into her and she felt his breath catch as he began to move. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. Please, she thought, and he thrust again, gently, as she relaxed into his movements. “Weh-sahris,” she said into his neck. “More. Faster.”

The plunge of his body into hers grew slicker and harder as their minds opened, and she felt him carefully shift through her thoughts for a moment, making sure she was ok, before retreating again. 

She felt the heat in his body grow brighter, his muscles tensing as they bunched under her hands. 

“Fuck,” she said, white lights bursting behind her eyelids and her toes curling against his hips. She felt her back lift off the ground even as she felt the echo of her movements in his mind, her body tight and thrumming. Don’t stop, she thought, and felt a vague notion of acquiescence as his hips pounded harder into her. She felt his orgasm flood through her mind in response to her own, hot and white, as he stiffened. She gasped against his shoulder as he shook slightly, her own body slowly relaxing.

They were still for a moment, before he pulled his hand from her face and she opened her eyes to see him flushed above her. She blinked for a moment against the sudden stillness of her thoughts, coming back to her body as her heart still pounded.

She knew a dozen languages, but she didn’t know what to say to him. He was silent as well, slipping out of her, his shoulders still heaving as he caught his breath.

“We should go back,” she finally whispered, her mouth dry. “Before someone misses us.”

“Indeed.”

She sat up then, reaching for her still damp bathing suit that lay in a tangle. “I don’t think we should tell anyone,” she said after a long moment.

He was already dressed, already looking like a consummate Vulcan and she hurried to pull her clothes on.

“I agree.”

Nyota thought back to her subspace physics class during dinner that night, wondering if the space-time continuum had shifted to drag the meal out interminably. 

“The house will be so empty without you all,” Lady Amanda said as they ate pok tar. “It’s always such a pleasure to have you all, ever since you were little. You’ll have to give your best to Kamau, since we missed him so.”

“We will,” Alhamisi said. “He was sorry to miss it, though Spock will see him soon enough.”

Neither Sarek nor Spock looked up from where they ate in silence.

“It’s so exciting to think of the boys off on adventures together,” M'Umbha said. “And Nyota is off to college. All grown up.” Her mother smiled and her and squeezed her hand and Nyota swallowed against the lump of fori in her throat. “I’ll miss traveling with them all. Remember on Andor when Kamau and Spock rewired the subspace communicator to pick up the World Cup? I never thought a game of soccer would nearly create a diplomatic incident.”

“Soccer is often a diplomatic incident,” Alhamisi replied. “And that wasn’t as bad as when Makena and Nyota wandered off on Argelius II and ate all the chocolate we had brought as a gift.”

“I’ve never been so sick,” Makena groaned at the memory, pushing away the last of her food. “Totally worth it, though.”

“Your mother made you both explain what happened to the envoy. I’ll never forget that, you with your pigtails,” Alhamisi said, smiling fondly at Nyota, “facing down a room of Ambassadors with chocolate all over yourself. True diplomat’s children.”

“It is only in the reflection of other cultures that we better understand our own,” Sarek said and Spock briefly glanced up at him. “Ma etek natyan teretuhr lau etek shetau weh-lo'uk do tum t'on. We have differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us.”

Nyota counted the syllables of Surak’s phrase in her head even as she remembered the thrill of speaking to the diplomats. She had learned a few words of Argellian before her parents had sent her off to bed, still slightly queasy from her and Makena’s escapades. 

“Ah, that is the hope,” her father said, leaning back in his chair. “Though we all at some point make some sort of interspecies snafu. Remember when I assumed the Barisians could drink water? And they all went into anaphylactic shock?”

“That was distressing,” Sarek said evenly. “Biological differences are often problematic.”

“Good thing Nyota and Makena were the ones in the chocolate,” Lady Amanda said with a small smile and Nyota’s parents laughed.

Spock began stacking their plates and silverware as they finished their meal and Makena and Nyota joined him as their parents settled into a long discussion on Argellian trade agreements. Makena was humming quietly as she put dishes in the sanitizer and Nyota busied herself placing the leftover food in the stasis unit.

“We won’t see you in the morning, Spock,” Makena said, breaking through the silence in the kitchen. “We’re leaving really early since Dad has a meeting in San Francisco he has to get back for.”

Spock didn’t say anything, just carefully wiped the counter in even strokes.

“Good luck at the Academy,” she said and Spock frowned. “I bet you’ll love it.”

The words echoed against Nyota’s from the afternoon and she focused on scraping the last of the mashya into a bowl. A comm lying on the counter chimed and Makena leapt towards it. 

“Hi! I didn’t think you’d call again,” she said, catching Nyota’s eye and motioning to the hallway as she backed out of the kitchen. 

“Stop!” Nyota hissed, but Makena was gone in a flash, and Nyota could hear the door to the room they shared slide shut. 

Nyota carefully returned her gaze to the plates before her, opening the stasis unit and arranging them neatly inside. She heard Spock run the dishrag through the sanitizer, then shut off the machine as she fussed with the containers, trying to get them to fit the way she wanted. 

“Nyota,” he said. “I believe I should have explained, before-“

“It’s fine.” She stood up quickly, shutting the unit and wiping her hands on a towel. “You asked. I said yes.”

“K'war'ma'khon,” he said quietly to his feet. “It is way in which Vulcans are bonded to each other, which makes-“ he swallowed, “-telepathic linking more admissible. Only on further reflection do I perhaps better understand that differences between you and I. It is an intimacy that Vulcans experience often with each other and it was perhaps inappropriate to ask you to share in that. I understand if you are upset.” He swallowed again. “With me.”

“I’m sure you don’t always share it like that,” she tried to joke, but it came out flat. “I’m not upset, Spock.” He looked at the wall somewhere over her shoulder. “I don’t think either of us were making particularly good decisions. Consider it a cross-cultural learning experience for us both. Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim.”

The tension dropped from his shoulders slightly.

“Th'i-oxalra. Thank you,” he said, meeting her eyes. “As Makena said, I will not see you in the morning before you leave.”

“Tell Kamau hi,” Nyota said. “And good luck at Starfleet.”

“Luck is illogical,” Spock said softly and Nyota nodded. 

“I know.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Good luck at college,” he offered, before holding up his hand in the ta’al. “Dif-tor heh smusma. Live long and prosper.”

“Sochya eh dif,” she replied. “Peace and long life.”

…

Gaila’s eyes were shining when Nyota finished speaking. 

“He sounds sweet.”

“Sweet?” Nyota thought back. “I suppose. He’s Vulcan, though. I don’t think sweet is a word generally used to describe them.”

“I bet he’s had sex with most of the women at Starfleet. Some of the men, too, if swings his baseball club for that team.”

“Bats for that team. I don’t think he does.”

“He’s leaving soon?”

“Don’t even think about it, Gaila. We need a new rule: no sharing sexual partners.”

“That won’t leave you with much to work with. Also, I gave Barrett a…” Gaila gestured with her hand. “What do you call it?”

Nyota sighed. “No sharing sexual partners, at all. No sex in the room. No alarm clocks on weekend mornings. And no telling anyone what I told you tonight.”

“I’d never pour legumes from their proper container, even as an accident,” Gaila said seriously. “And I’m worried about your sex life, so I will attempt to not have physical relations with some small subset of human males here. For you. This will be difficult.”

“I appreciate it,” Nyota said. “And please leave me some cute ones. I have a formative sexual experience to recover from, even after all these years, and it may take a few cadets to be able to work with Spock professionally again.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 11/13/13 since the previous version was just too short and rushed.

Advanced Vulcan came easily. The rest of her courses did not.

She was an excellent student who produced excellent work and had excellent study habits. This had resulted in excellent grades at her excellent university.

She threw her stylus at the wall, took a deep breath and picked it up.

Beginning Subspace Physics: A Case Study on Popular Mechanical Theories she wrote at the top of the padd before adding her name and the stardate.

She paused. She looked at her notes. She looked at the padd. She looked at her notes again. She contemplated throwing the stylus, simply because it felt good the first time, then shook her head, took another deep breath, and got to work.

…

It was the first time in her life she wasn't easily at the top of her class and the first time in her life she struggled for her grades. The cadence and press of Academy life was relentless, constant, and demanding in what it took from her each day.

She tapped out the rhythms of new languages until they were as familiar as her favorite music, wrote and rewrote physics equations until they blurred before her eyes, and trained on basic bridge simulators until her fingers could flip through frequencies as fast as her ear could pick them out.

It was hard. She was exhausted. She loved it, all of it.

…

The first paper Nyota turned in, a short one that was a small amount of her grade, was not perfect. She liked perfect. She rewrote it, then rewrote it again.

The first quiz she took, she got the top score in her class. She studied the rubric on her way home, since she had still missed two answers. By the time she opened the door to her room, she had realized what she had done wrong.

Looking up, seeing Gaila and someone who she thought might be a third year engineering cadet, or maybe security, in a naked tangle, she decided that more time in the library couldn't hurt anyone.

…

The best part was the crush of non-humans she spent her days with, reminiscent of her childhood and the adventures her parents had taken her on that had led her here, to this, to sitting with Gaila and a Trill and an Arcadian around a loud, cramped table in the mess hall, slang and idioms swirling around her in a steady, beautiful jumble.  
The worst part was trying to parse the sheer number of languages she learned, walking away from the classroom and her textbooks and listening to the lilt in Gaila's tone when she talked about her sisters, watched the way an Andorian's antennas twitched when they told a joke, noticing that the words for help and happy in Bolian were used interchangeably in colloquial speech, something not mentioned in her coursework.

She turned off her universal translator, as useless as it was, and listened harder, watched longer, and committed to memory all the secrets of languages words alone couldn't express, walking home each night under the stars, tired, happy, staring skyward.  
…

Their weekends were precious.

She took Gaila dancing, out to clubs and bars full of sweet drinks they both loved, and pounding, thrumming music that reminded Nyota of nights with her sister, nights with her friends from college.

She taught her what she could of Terran culture, though admittedly some lessons were more useless than others.

"It's an ancient tradition," Nyota promised. "I'm not saying I get it, but this game has been around for hundred of years in North America."

"They're not Giants, they're normal sized men. Swinging wooden mallets. Wearing exceptionally unattractive outfits," Gaila frowned at their holovid display. "And what is a cracker jack? Is this a religious chant?"

Nyota laughed and reached for the remote, changing the channel to something more sensible. "I think some people probably think so."

Gaila took her to places Nyota would never have dreamed of going with a wide eyed excitement she envied. They walked through twisting alleys that had nothing in them besides some stray cats and garbage, sat on the docks to look at seagulls for hours, loitered in the transportation center where Gaila happily watched shuttles come and go, the lines ever shifting for the transporter pad.

"We have homework," Nyota pointed out on one such afternoon, her feet and stomach aching in equal measure.

"We have three more ice cream shops on my list."

"This isn't healthy."

"Doing that much schoolwork isn't healthy." Gaila threw her head back, grinning at the sky, arms held wide. "We're in Starfleet. We're explorers. Now hurry up and decide what flavor you want."

…

She dreamed of swirling, scrolling scripts that she traced in her mind, pathways of characters she walked, stepping between letters as large as city streets as sounds rose up around her, thick and comforting in a heavy cacophony she struggled to understand but loved nonetheless.

She dreamed of lines of text in her books blurring together until she couldn't separate the words, her homework an indistinct rendering of letters and symbols she couldn't read. She dreamed of the volumes in the library written in undecipherable code, working to unencrypt them feverishly, her hand clutching a paper she needed to research.

She dreamed of a universal translator that could reveal the hidden cadence and patterns of languages unbound by morphemes and phonemes, and she dreamed of deciphering new languages no one else had touched yet, no one else had heard, unlocking them like a puzzle laid out just for her.

She dreamed in Romulan, Bjoran, Klingon, and Trill, waking up in the dark and unwinding her mind with the comfort of Swahili, the even tones of Vulcan until she could fall back asleep, only to have the dreams restart over and over until the sun rose, bright and demanding, and she rolled out of bed for another day of classes.

…

"Robau Memorial Scholarship Award," Gaila read, trailing her fingers along the edge of the trophy case. "K'Bentayr Award for Outstanding Academic Achievement. Bet you get that one someday."

"Thanks." Nyota paused, looking closer at the plaque. "Looks like Spock already did."

"And this one, too." Gaila pointed at the Cochrane Medal of Excellence. "Wonder what 'outstanding contribution or performance in the physical sciences or advanced engineering' he did."

"No idea."

"Carrington Award for excellence in the field of medicine, Chakarian Grant for studies in the applied sciences, Koeppel Grant for recognition of contributing to Starfleet's understanding of alien life forms."

"I hear you've understood a few alien life forms since we got here."

"Yep." Gaila grinned. "And I had fun doing it."

"There's so much to do here," Nyota breathed, looking at the shelves of trophies.

"There's so many species to do here," Gaila corrected, still smiling. "Guess we both have to get a move on."

Nyota laughed, knowing Gaila's scores in her engineering courses nearly outpaced her own in communications, knowing that neither of them were exactly hurting for dates, knowing that there was a good chance they would stand here after their years at the Academy, after graduation, adding their own names to Starfleet's history.

…

Her father called after midterms, after Nyota had slept for eleven hours and gone for a long run, working out the kinks and strains of tests and papers.

"See?" She held up the padd Gaila had left for her before her last exam. "Get it? She drew wings all over a rainbow."

She watched her father lean his chin on his hand, a gesture so familiar Nyota had to swallow against the sudden pang of homesickness.

"Hmmm."

"Flying colors, Dad. I told her I hoped I passed with flying colors and she loved the phrase."

Her father chuckled, deep and rumbling, and Nyota grinned back.

"I'm glad you have a good friend there," he said, and she nodded. "You brother and his roommate. Spock and his roommate."

"They didn't get along?"

"Andorian."

"That sounds horrible." Nyota frowned, imagining Spock rooming with someone from an ice planet. Her frown deepened. "How did you know that?"

"I used to see him when I went to visit you brother, of course." Her father straightened, smiling suddenly. "Now, let me tell you about the fact you can never get married because of this wedding your sister is planning."

"Dad…"

"I'm serious. You'll have to be my little girl forever, since my heart can't take another round of this."

"I'll always be your little girl. Though I did learn how to dissemble and rebuild a phaser in under 90 seconds this week."

Her father sighed. "Well, I guess that will at least come in handy if this goes on much longer."

"The wedding isn't for ages."

"Exactly."

…

She went to class, every day. She went running most days. She went on dates occasionally, preferring her nights with Gaila, with the slowly growing group of friends they made.

"Maybe," she yelled over the thumping music of the club when Cadet Jennings asked if she wanted to get dinner sometime. She looked at him again, his tall, lean form and dark hair. And he could dance. "Sure," she shouted over the heavy beat. "How bout a drink now?"

It was… nice. But she had her studies and they were far more interesting than his blue eyes, even if he did have nice shoulders and decent grades.

"You have strange standards," Gaila yawned when Nyota finally got home. "But let me tell you, mine have changed. Risian. You have no idea. I met one after you left with Jennings."

Nyota crawled into bed with her clothes on, kicking off her boots. "You can tell me but I'm going to be out cold two seconds."

"Do you need another blanket?"

"What?" She yawned so wide her jaw hurt.

"If you're cold."

"I'm not cold."

"But you said you were going to be cold."

Nyota blinked, her eyes heavy. "The room's really warm, actually."

"I know." She opened her eyes long enough to see Gaila frowning. "For a communications cadet, you're not very good at saying what you mean."

…

Some days dragged, interminable, the seconds of each class felt in full as she filled her padd with line after line of foreign languages until her head swam.

Some days crashed by at an unrelenting pace, so that the time between pulling her boots on in the morning, yawning, was indistinguishable from toeing them off in the evening, yawning again, eyeing the textbooks on her desk.

The weeks between midterms and finals dragged, the thought of a break, no matter how short it was between the semesters pulling her forward, even as the amount of work she had to complete before then made her want to slow down the clock.

She hardly slept, hardly ate during the rounds of exams she completed, coming out the other side with a sort of awed astonishment that it was over as she left her final test.

Done, she thought. Three and a half years to go.

…

When she got to the bar, it was jammed and crowded and hot.

She had not been surprised when Kamau messaged her, the name and address of the establishment flashing across her comm. She had heard his ship was in the Sol System and after even a few months off planet, many of the crewmembers were able to put in for shore leave.

She was surprised when he brought along a very pretty, very blonde Ensign.

She extracted herself from his tight, crushing hug and held out her hand.

"Nyota," she said with a smile.

"Annette. It's so nice to meet you."

"You as well," she said, wondering if she was supposed to have known about her and not wanting to give the wrong impression that Kamau had never brought her up. "How's the Eisenhower?"

"Nothing compared to the rumors about the Enterprise," Kamau sighed, signaling the bartender and receiving three frosty drinks. "I heard the initial building has begun in Iowa of all places."

"Iowa?" Nyota accepted the glass from her brother. "Really?"

"None for me, thanks," Annette said quickly, shaking her head when Kamau tried to hand over a drink. "I'm not feeling well."

"Sweetie," he frowned, touching her shoulder. "Still? You were up and working today before we beamed down."

"Comes and goes," the other woman said lightly. "I hear you're studying communications?"

"Yes." Nyota took a sip of her drink, enjoying the slight fizz and sweet taste. She glanced at Annette's yellow command uniform. "What were you working on today?"

"Oh, Kamau didn't tell you? I'm a pilot. I was completing some training simulations so I can qualify for alpha shift at some point."

Nyota smiled quickly, darting a glance at her brother. "Being on the bridge must be exciting, and getting to fly, too. I bet you've done all sorts of interesting shuttle runs," she said quickly, trying to avoid another comment that would reveal she had no knowledge of this woman.

They spoke at length about the trips Annette had taken and she and Kamau listened good naturedly to Nyota's account of her first semester, nodding and groaning at all the appropriate places.

"It gets easier," Kamau offered, finishing half of Annette's drink. "Just wait till you're done with the coursework and can move onto the actual training. Those basic simulators you use now are nothing next to the ones for third and forth years."

"And are you planning on doing a rotation on a ship?" Annete asked. "You should look into the Eisenhower if you do. Captain Abbot is wonderful."

"He might transfer to the Bradbury," Kamau said. "You could apply to the Lexington. Spock says Captain April and Commander Pike are amazing to work for."

"He said that?" Nyota asked with a grin. "How do you even know that?"

"We talk all the time. Well, all the time for him, which is more like very occasionally. And I think his phrase was 'sufficiently satisfactory to work for.' But ask him yourself. He's teaching here next semester."

"He is?"

"I know, the idea of him teaching, right? Remind him about the time I smoked him in basketball before he grew twelve centimeters and could bench press me."

"I just… didn't he just receive that posting on the Lexington?"

Kamau shrugged. "Something about them shuffling crew around. Pike is coming back to start up a new recruitment drive and a lot of senior officers are being moved around. Rumor has it, it's because of our brand new, gorgeous, state of the line flagship, which Pike might just be captain of."

"The Starfleet grapevine," Annette sighed.

Kamau nodded. "Speaking of which, let's talk about this Jennings character."

"What?"

"No secrets." Annette sighed again.

"We all have it splashed out there, eventually. Like the gregarious stories about me and a completely appropriate number of women, not to high, not too low, all of who didn't hold a candle to you, my dear."

"Thanks."

"I'm serious. There were even rumors about Spock by the time I graduated, and he is pretty damn reclusive."

"I'm sure they weren't true," Nyota said, taking a quick drink.

"Not what I heard." Kamau shrugged. "Another round?"

"Sure." She turned to Annette. "If you're feeling ok."

"Oh, it's nothing, I'm fine."

"That's my girl," Kamau said with a grin, throwing an arm over her shoulders and tugging her close. "Threw up every morning for days and is now at the bar. Sure you don't want something?"

"I really shouldn't." She smiled weakly. "No alcohol for me."

Nyota frowned, looking between the two of them.

"So. Jennings. Tell me."

"Not even a date, Kamau," she said, still eyeing Annette curiously.

"Nobody's good enough for you. That's what Makena always says. You're so picky."

"I am not."

"Whatever. You need a gorgeous, polite genius who wants to hear about your classes all day and loves his mom."

"Thanks for the endorsement," she said, smacking his arm. "And let me know if you meet any of them."


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through and expanded chapter 4 since I definitely rushed through it when I wrote it the first time. Not much content change so you can skip going back to read it, but I just wanted to flesh out Academy life and do some more world building. I know Spock wasn’t in it, but that doesn’t mean we have to cut a description of her first semester short, right? Right? I don’t know, I want Spock back as much as all of you.

Mombassa was hot, sunny, and warmed the chill perpetually sustained by foggy day after foggy day. It was free of homework, classes, other cadets, and the relentless, unrepentant stress of the Academy.

When she got back, San Francisco was wet, cold, and bereft of the sounds, smells, and familiarity of home. She longed for her grandparents, her parents, the comfort of her childhood bed and thought she would even choose to tolerate Makena’s incessant chatter about her wedding, or her mother wishing again and again Kamau could be there, over her hard dorm mattress and the pile of textbooks waiting on her desk.

She toed her duffel bag aside and curled against her pillow in the unnatural stillness and quiet of her room with Gaila still gone, her family half a world away and another grueling term stretched out in front of her.

It would be fine, she thought, then thought it again in Vulcan and Bjoran and Andorian, tucking her arms around herself and willing Gaila to return right then, not on her scheduled transport later that evening.

She sighed, made herself sit up, made herself reach for her class schedule.

It would be fine, she thought, grimacing at the long list of courses, the packed schedule that made her wonder when she would possibly eat, let alone sleep.

It would be fine, she thought, reviewing her list of instructors, blinking at it, reading it again, her stomach twisting and her heart starting to race. She set the schedule down, wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and got up to unpack her bag, arranging her socks in needlessly neat rows, fussing with how to line up her earrings on her dresser.

She picked the schedule up again, read it once more, set it back down and made room on her bookshelf for her new texts, putting them in alphabetical order, frowning, changing the arrangement to be by topic.

She picked up the schedule a third time, stared at Spock’s name, called Gaila, called her again when she didn’t answer, and called her a third time.

She would be fine, she thought, checking to make sure her comm had a signal, turning it off and back on and trying Gaila again. Completely and totally fine.

…

She told herself it wasn’t that bad, standing for a long moment outside the door to his Interspecies Ethics lecture, wondering if he knew she was taking his class, wondering, as she walked in, if she could bring herself to sit in the front as she normally did, and wondering if he noticed Gaila’s slightly stunned expression when her roommate’s eyes swept up his tall, lean form and she turned to gape at Nyota.

He did, she guessed, since he glanced at her, at Gaila, and back at her as she took her seat, kicking Gaila’s shin until her roommate shut her mouth.

She watched him stack and restack the padds in front of him, watched him watch the class as they filed in, and resolutely did not watch Gaila typing furiously on her padd, and certainly did not watch the flashing indicator on her own padd that signaled she had a new message.

She wondered if he was nervous, then wondered how he possibly couldn’t be as the lecture hall filled, the clamor of voices rising and falling as students greeted each other, waved to friends they hadn’t seen since the last semester. He looked so young against the backdrop of cadets almost his age if not older, only his dark, tailored uniform setting him apart, the rigid way he held himself at odds with classmates hugging and calling across the room each other.

She kicked Gaila’s shin again for good measure, since she was still receiving a flurry of messages from her, as he walked in front of his lectern and he began speaking, the class immediately falling silent under his even, measured tone.

As he outlined the syllabus and course requirements she flicked through the myriad of messages Gaila had sent her, deleting _you didn’t tell me he was so hot_ and _I want to lick his eyebrows_ before adding _let’s have a long talk about him naked_ to her trash as well, tipping her padd away from the cadet seated on her other side.

She spent the rest of class ignoring Gaila’s increasingly lewd messages, ignoring the amount of fun her roommate was having next to her as she focused on his grading rubric, his expectations for class participation.

By the time class was over the restless energy of a new semester was noticeably tempered as cadets sighed under the weight of the reading assignments and marked down the alarmingly close date for the first quiz and the first paper. She slipped her padd into her bag, disregarding the newest round of messages Gaila had sent her even as she watched a half dozen female cadets surround Spock with questions.

“Set phasers to stunning,” Gaila sighed as they headed to lunch.

“That joke is as old as… well, probably older than phasers themselves.”

“I can’t wait for next week. I’m going to look up all of his classes and sign up for them.”

“I don’t think academic excellence has ever been achieved by only taking classes with professors you find attractive.”

“Well that explains your uninspired course selection. I prefer a more aesthetically pleasing approach.” Gaila said, grinning. “I heard he’s teaching a bunch of advanced xenolinguistics seminars. I’d take a class with Lieutenant Hot just to hear him speak in some other languages. Linguistics could be great with a particularly-“

“Don’t say it,” Nyota groaned.

“Cunning professor.”

It was, she decided, going to be a very, very long semester.

…

It was a huge class, one that every cadet in her year took and one that caused fierce competition since postings on starships carefully examined students’ ability to excel at First Contacts, adhere to the Prime Directive, and work compatibly with a host of different species.

It was hard, harder than most of her other classes and his syllabus was formidable and demanding. His lectures matched the rigor of his reading assignments and Nyota saw more than one cadet flinch under his exacting, precise questions.

“To what degree should a newly accepted species be expected to adapt to the culture of the Federation?” he asked, catching the eye of an Andorian in the back row.

“To the extent that’s required for both parties to fulfill the Federation charter?” he asked, his antenna wilting slightly under Spock’s gaze.

“Is that a question, Cadet?”

“No, um, no sir.”

“Do you agree with Starfleet’s decision to train cadets on Earth?” Spock asked, his hands clasped behind his back, still eyeing the Andorian who looked confused at the change of topic.

“Yes?”

Spock raised an eyebrow and Nyota hid a grin, thinking of that same expression on Sarek’s face, abject disapproval after Spock and Kamau knocked over one of Lady Amanda’s potted plants with a soccer ball.

“Yes, sir, I do,” the Andorian corrected, “as Earth is the seat of the Federation Council, and humans were one of the founding members.”

“So were Andorians. And Tellarites. Perhaps Starfleet should have chosen to diversify the location of such significant institutions,” Spock said, turning to Grav, who lived on Nyota’s hall and whose snout started twitching as Spock spoke to him. “How do you find the weather, Cadet?”

“Quiet cold, sir,” Grav answered with his characteristic boldness, though his nose still worked furiously. “Frigid most days.”

“I concur,” Spock said with a nod, turning back to the Andorian. “And yourself?”

His antennas laid down flat on his head. “Fine, sir.”

“Truly?”

One antenna twitched. “Um, a bit warm, perhaps. Sir.”

“I would imagine so. Would you perhaps share your opinions on the Starfleet cadet uniforms? Or the active duty uniforms you will surely wear during the tenure of your commission aboard a climate controlled starship?”

“They’re fine, sir.”

“Cadet?” Spock asked, turning back to Grav.

“I could use a hat. Gloves. Scarf.”

“Perhaps environmental controls that raise temperatures to a more comfortable level? Or special dispensation to accommodate your species’ natural climate when Starfleet considers uniform regulations?”

“That would be nice, sir,” Grav said nodding.

“Cadet, how would you feel about working in close proximity to another species that requires an even warmer temperature than that which humans are accustomed to?” Spock asked the Andorian.

“Warmer than Earth? Sir, that would be rather unpleasant,” the Andorian replied, one antenna sinking downward slightly.

“Does logic then suggest that we create a separate work environment for your comfort, Cadet?”

Both of his antennas stood straight up. “I- yes, sir, yes, that would be nice.”

“Would that heighten the productivity of Starfleet by ensuring that each Federation species is individually catered to? Or perhaps detract from the main mission of exploration and peace keeping by expending resources on individual needs?”

Nyota watched the Andorian’s antennas droop. “I’m not sure, sir,” he said quietly.

Nyota raised her hand and waited until Spock turned to her and nodded. “One of Bl’authryn’s theories suggests a moderate approach where cultures adapt to the degree they are each able to, with a mind to efficiency and adherence to the overarching goal of their interaction.”

“Explain.”

She swallowed, not as immune to the intensity of his gaze as she would have liked, so different from it being focused on the tricorder they passed between them as they explored the canyons behind his house, the way he had looked at her when… She swallowed again and soldiered on. “In this case, cultures joining the Federation accept certain acclimatizations, and in return, the Federation constantly renegotiates fair and sufficient allowances. It would be grossly inefficient to assume that any one culture be saddled with the entirety of the necessary compromises, or for a culture to be unwilling to step out of their comfort zone in the name of interspecies cooperation towards a greater, mutually agreed upon good. Studies suggest a willingness to compromise, as well as a consensus as to what that great good is, is often the best sign a new species will thrive as a member of the Federation, since it is an important tenant of the charter, sir.”

“Excellent, Cadet,” Spock said with a nod and she felt herself flush.

Gaila elbowed her. “Cadet Uhura just has extra practice since she has an Orion roommate,” she called out and laughter rippled through the lecture hall. Nyota watched the corner of Spock’s mouth twitch very slightly upwards.

“I would encourage you to raise your hand, Cadet.”

“Orions don’t raise our hands, Lieutenant. We don’t have the same appreciation for societal order, and compared to Vulcans, you could call it a complete disregard.”

“And yet you find yourself at Starfleet, which employs a Terran, militaristic hierarchy that strictly regiments societal interactions between the various ranks.”

“I figured you all could use me,” Gaila grinned. “Any anyway, I’m quite enjoying… learning about other species.”

Nyota was pretty sure Spock did smile this time, even as he shook his head and gave Gaila a stern look, ignoring the peals of laughter ringing out from the audience of students.

…

Everyone in her class hated his assignments.

“More?” Gaila groaned, flicking through the reading assignment for that week. “I have other classes. Many, many other classes. And I like to sleep once in a while.”

Nyota found, more often than not, students doing his reading before other lectures, during random breaks as they pulled out the texts for his class, frowning as they decided which one to read first since they couldn’t possibly finish them all, hurriedly reviewing notes as they filed into their seats for his class, partially terrified that he would call on them and partially resigned to utter failure of he did.

“Interspecies understanding should allow for the fact most other species can’t absorb material as fast as Vulcans,” Gaila called out at the start of one class, before he could even begin speaking.

Spock looked up at her as the class held its collective breath, stunned at her audacity.

“Would you like to present a workable alternative, Cadet?” he asked evenly.

“Just acknowledgement that my brain isn’t as big as yours.”

“I would encourage you first to review your basic xenobiology texts,” he said and Nyota smiled, even though no one else did, “and second, to not place too much emphasis on academics while at the Academy. There are many performance based skills that your instructors take into account, up to and including advocating for disparities in interspecies learning styles.”

Gaila grinned.

“However, as this is an academic course and your year has not yet advanced to the rigors of simulations that evaluate behavior, let us conduct an academic exercise to ascertain the degree to which students are having difficulties absorbing and retaining class materials.”

The class glared at Gaila as her grin faded, as Spock wrote a quick quiz and posted it to the view screen.

Gaila didn’t get laid for a week. Nyota enjoyed every moment of peace and quiet the imposed celibacy brought and finished her first paper for Spock’s class early.

…

Everyone in her class was intimidated by him.

“I have nightmares of him calling on me,” Nyota heard as she took her seat.

“I’d prefer a Klingon armada,” another cadet agreed as Nyota pulled out her padd.

“I’d take a posting on Delta Vega,” which made Nyota roll her eyes as she fished her stylus out of her bag.

“Too close to Vulcan,” a student hissed as Spock stepped up the lectern. “You wouldn’t be safe.”

Gaila alone seemed determined to disregard his penetrating gaze, shrug off his shrewd questions most cadets felt left them a step behind.

“Sir?” she asked, thrusting her hand in the air.

Spock blinked before he called on her. “Yes, Cadet?”

“To what degree does interspecies standards of behavior allow for personal disparities within species, or an individual’s chosen lack of regards for their own social norms?”

“A most interesting query and one which calls into question the depth and intricacy of our understanding of various cultures. You appear to be capable of adapting, as are most species when they choose which habits to select in order to further assimilate to life on Earth.”

“But what about when you’re not trying to assimilate, you just decide you want to play by a different set of rules, just because? Are other cultures expected to hold you to your biological societal standards? Or modify their understanding based on your own preferences for self expression?”

Spock tilted his head slightly, his brows drawn together. “Individual expression is, generally, welcome, depending on the relevant culture, as some are predisposed towards tolerance in a way that others are not. However, you do raise a fascinating point when individuality is considered within the construction of cross species comprehension. I suppose there exists a possibility of established frameworks for understanding being rendered insufficient, and therefore unusable, leading to the necessity that the individual in question is faced with forging an atypical path, plagued by misinterpretations and various misconceptions regarding their behavior, perhaps not only by other cultures but by their own as well.”

“Do you think that’s common, sir?”

“Perhaps, regardless of its frequency, you have touched on the degree to which the study of interspecies ethics, and, indeed, intraspecies ethics, necessitates the obligation for compassion and tolerance,” he said and Gaila smiled softly. “Thank you, Cadet. Now, please open your texts to Chapter 12, section 4.”

Nyota watched him quickly begin his planned lecture, watched Gaila lean back in her chair and twirl a strand of hair around her finger.

 _Were you asking about you?_ Nyota typed in a message, breaking her steadfast rule about distractions during class. _Are you ok?_

 _Take notes, smarty pants. I’m relying on you for the final, can’t have you miss a single word of his_.

Nyota frowned, looking at Gaila, looking at Spock, wondering.

…

Everyone in her class was in love with him.

They talked about him in the library over study sessions for his quizzes, talked about him over lunch after his class, talked about him on the quad, in hallways, and in the locker room of the gym while Nyota quickly tied her hair back and escaped to a treadmill.

Gaila, thankfully, gave up much sooner than the rest of their class did, moving on to a host of other men and other species and Nyota found she came to prefer the risk of entering her room to find a random stranger in the other bed with her roommate than listening to their classmates moon over their professor.

“It’s ridiculous,” she complained one night, watching Gaila change her sheets. “Doesn’t anyone have anything better to do? Like all his homework? It’s getting annoying. And weird.”

“The only weird thing is that you haven’t told anyone you know him.”

“That’s not weird. It’s self preservation. Can you imagine? It’d be like fanning a fire. I’d probably never be left alone.”

“It’s weird that you’re keeping it from everyone.”

“I’m not keeping it from them. It’s irrelevant. And it’s not like anyone’s asked. And it’s really not weird.”

“If it’s not weird, then just tell people that you knew each other before the Academy.”

“No.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“No.”

“I’m going to send out a message,” Gaila said, staring into the distance and grinning. “Breaking News: Cadet Nyota Uhura once knew Lieutenant Spock. Academy grinds to a halt as population deals with all the weirdness. Starfleet forced to suspend services as admirals discuss appropriate course of action. Federation convenes emergency session as the Vulcan High Council-”

“I’m glad this is so much fun for you. Really. Please continue.”

“We can’t help that you’re the only one actually interested in his brain,” Gaila pointed out. “You probably just want to sit around and talk about phonetics with him.”

Nyota tried not to remember Spock teaching her how to pronounce his family name, enunciating the phonemes for her, their small hands combing through I-Chaya’s thick fur.

“You probably do sit around and talk about phonetics with him,” Gaila continued, stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase. “Isn’t he teaching the other section of Advanced Morphology? The one you’re not taking because you’d rather take another language class than fit your entire schedule around hot, brilliant professors?”

“Yeah, I think,” Nyota said, picking at her nails. “I don’t really know.”

“You two probably recite textbooks to each other. Ugh,” Gaila shuddered. “It’s like my worst nightmare.”

Nyota frowned when her nail polish began chipping, worrying at it until it became worse.

“Nyota?”

“Hmm?”

“Office hours? Your favorite activity every week? Picking professors’ brains until they cave under your superior knowledge and relentless questioning? Terrorizing the offices of the xenolinguistics department in a constant pursuit of something else you can research in your abundant free time? Office hours that reverse any lingering weirdness between you and the Lieutenant in the face of your mutual fascination with arcane, useless information?”

Nyota studied her nails, thinking about repainting them.

“Because the only thing weirder than it being weird when you talk to him would be you not talking to him.”

She sat, silent, thinking desperately about nail polish colors.

“Because, really-“

“Gaila…”

“And I don’t pretend to understand human, half-Vulcan interspecies relations-“

“-You could do your reading for his class. Might help.”

“But, Nyota, a chance to miss out on office hours? Improve your grade by a half of a percent? You? That. Is. Weird. You love office hours.”

“No I don’t. That would be weird.”

“Nyota.”

“Ok, yes. I love them. Don’t tell anyone, it’s embarrassing.”

“Probably not as embarrassing as getting an A minus,” Gaila pointed out.

Nyota had to smile. “Probably not.”

“Well, he’ll probably give you full marks anyway,” Gaila sighed, flopping back against her pillow. “Knowing you.”

“Knowing me what?”

Gaila shrugged, picking her padd up and twirling a curl around her purple stylus. “Just knowing you.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you seem genetically incapable of scoring below, like, a 98.”

“I got a 94 on that quiz. I don’t think he’d give me full marks in the class, since the top score was a 96, but I think I know what I did wrong-“

“Ok, wow, hold your equines-“

“Horses, Gaila, and he’s not going to give me full marks, since I’m telling you, I got this one question wrong-“

“I really didn’t mean-“

“Cause it’d be impossible to earn it, you know, so to be fair he’d have to-“

“Nyota. Stop.”

She stopped.

“Listen to yourself. You’re actually worried about, what, him showing some appearance of favoritism? You not being sure that you deserve your grade? Is that why you won’t tell anyone you know him?”

“I’m not worried about anything. I just think that if I study Roseau’s theory on-”

“Nyota.”

“I don’t want full marks if I didn’t earn them,” she muttered, picking at her nails again.

“Of course not. And of course he’s probably the most morally upstanding professor at this place. I’ve never seen a man so thoroughly ignore a swarm of gorgeous women, all of whom would probably gladly swap some bodily fluids for a better grade, no matter how against regs that is.”

“Yeah.” She examined her thumbnail and reached for her nail polish. “I know.”

“And of course you should go to his stupid office hours and listen to his stupid critiques of Roseau’s theory on why humans are the stupidest at all these stupid interspecies problems.”

“We are not. And don’t talk about Roseau like that, it’s academic sacrilege.”

“Name a single Vulcan or Orion or Deltan or Betazoid who would even begin to have these problems regarding a previous sexual partner. It isn’t logical or rational or natural for any of us.”

Nyota nodded, staring at the nail polish jar gripped in her hand.

“You could take a torn piece of paper out of one of our publications.”

“Page out of your book?”

“That’s what I said.”

She felt Gaila watch her for a long time until she looked up.

“Thanks.”

“Just do me a favor and don’t tell me what you learn in his office hours. I prefer my brain free and unencumbered by trying to understand you lot.”

…

She paused at the door to his office, turned away, turned back, turned away, told herself she was being ridiculous and knocked.

She wondered if she had surprised him, but if she had, if that quick blink and slight hesitation meant anything, he covered it well, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

His office was like an adult version of his bedroom, she thought, then immediately wished she didn’t know what his bedroom looked like. He had the same type of art, swirling, ancient Vulcan calligraphy he had taught her how to read, and a small landscape of the Forge rendered in reds and oranges that were bright and vibrant against the bland, white wall. His bookshelf held a mass of padds, most titled as computer programming texts or biology references, but she noticed a row of old, leather bound Terran books and wondered if it wasn’t his Sherlock Holmes collection, which she had often admired and had read on one visit, turning the yellowed pages carefully.

He shifted and she started, realizing he was watching her.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, and she wondered if she had actually been silent long enough for him to have to encourage her to speak, or if he was just so used to humans that he had abandoned the Vulcan custom of silence inviting conversation.

“I, um, wanted to ask you about First Contacts? And the use of universal translators?”

“Of course.” He laced his fingers together on his desk and leaned forward slightly.

“There isn’t much information on how communications officers start the programming process for a brand new language, when there’s no established understanding of phonemes or knowledge of basic morphology,” she started, her words coming quicker and surer as she spoke. “I asked Professor Eneis about it and he said that it really depends on the iteration of the software that’s available.”

“You are in his Advanced Morphology class,” Spock said.

“I, um, yes. I was just wondering if there’s any standardization in the software? Or if you knew the theory behind the programming, since I think you said you were working on it?” Stop asking questions, she told herself sternly, then couldn’t remember how not to. “Or helping with it? On the Lexington?”

“Indeed.” He stood, perfectly calm and poised and walked to his bookshelf, pulling out a padd and flicking it on. “I am updating the software since it currently lacks the sophistication needed for the Federation’s most recently added languages.”

“Will it be consistently used for most ships? What you’re writing now?” she asked, watching him sit down and scroll through the lines of programming, wishing for some of his composure.

“Perhaps. It will certainly be used on the Enterprise and likely uploaded to the servers of other ships.” He turned the padd towards her and she immediately forgot the weight of being in his office, talking to him, in favor of frowning at the display, trying to decipher the code. “I assume that programming is not in your repertoire of languages.”

“I’d like to learn,” she said, pulling the padd towards her, slowly picking out patterns and identifying recurring structures.

“A compliment to your other skills,” he said. “Professor Eneis is quite impressed with your xenolinguistic proficiencies.”

Nyota tried very hard not to imagine professors talking about her, Spock talking about her.

“Um, thanks.” She scrolled through the length of the program. “Can I borrow this? Or maybe get a copy?”

“Of course,” he said and she handed the padd back so he could transfer the file to a data stick.

“Thanks, “ she said again, picking up the data stick from where he placed it in the middle of his desk. “I gotta run, got your midterm and all,” she said quickly, thinking of the research she needed to finish in order to just start his assignment, thinking that without a padd in front of her for distraction, she just really, really wanted to leave, thinking she had sustained a thirty second long conversation with him and that probably merited an award. Maybe Gaila would be pleased enough she’d take a turn cleaning their bathroom.

“I look forward to reading your paper,” he said, inclining his head as she stood.

“Thanks,” she said a third time and resolved to just stop talking, leaving before her mouth decided to add anything else. She walked home scrolling through his program, thinking of him teaching her Vulcan calligraphy, thinking of him teaching her High Vulcan phrases as they sat on his bed as children, thinking this might not be so different, just as ordered and tidy, before she thought about the fact he hadn’t offered her any help this time.

She would be fine, she told herself, thinking of a dozen questions before she was halfway back to her dorm. Gaila would help her, and certainly owed her one after Nyota had been forced to call security for a spare set of handcuff keys the other day. Completely and totally fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, promise, promise that I have in no way abandoned this story or intend to not finish it. I had a great run over the summer and early fall where I could write as much as I wanted and that certainly showed, since I was able to publish a number of stories and update Five Times, my other chapter length story, in a much timelier fashion. I, too, am driven nuts by authors that don’t update their WIPs with any frequency or timeliness, so trust me, I hear you, and trust me again, I will do my utmost to have chapters out as soon as possible. 
> 
> Your reviews, notes, and love all help, since I got three people in one day asking me to update and I sat down and started this chapter. Thank you, thank you for all your lovely reviews pushing at me, since it certainly helps get the ball rolling! Don’t stop bugging me about it, and I promise I won’t stop writing it!


	7. Chapter 6

She had talked to Spock and had told Gaila she had talked to Spock, and it had been friendly and polite and professional and she had the translation program to prove it.

And she didn’t have to do it again. She could finish his class, wash her hands of any other close association with him and move on with her life, leaving him as an old family friend, someone she had known as a child who she might see occasionally but didn’t need to have any real contact with. 

She had the rest of the semester with him, a world where he was ‘sir’ and she was ‘Cadet’ and that was organized and neat and tidy, leaving whatever friendship had blossomed between them to their younger selves, to what felt like another life and different people.

It was great and it was simple and being anything else to him other than a student and perhaps someday a colleague was done, over and finished, just as straightforward as she could have hoped when she realized joining Starfleet meant him being back in her life. 

…

It was great.

She worked hard on her midterm paper for his class, as hard as she did for any of her classes, and his comments back to her were direct and succinct. Her grade was excellent, but then all of her grades were excellent so being at the top of his class was no different from being at the top of any of her others.

She got to his class right on time, just as the lecture hall was filling, just as the swirl of cadets who came to class early to talk to him eased and went back to their seats. She left with the crush of other students, mixing into the crowd with Gaila and others in her year as they spilled out of his classroom into the hall in a happy, loud clamor of voices that drowned out the silence between her and Spock.

She answered his questions in class when he asked them and he answered hers when she raised her hand, his eyes sliding away from hers as he finished and turned towards another student and then another until she was certain she was just another face in the crowd to him, another pupil to teach. 

She did the reading for his class among the stack of other texts she had for her other courses, diligently highlighting theories, taking notes on findings, and writing down facts that might appear on a quiz. She finished her homework on time on the best days and in a flurry before class on the worst. She paused now and again to bury herself in the translation program he had lent her, studying the programming as much as she could with her limited knowledge, reveling in the neat phrases it produced in Bjoran, Deltan, Trill, a happy memory of the days when language was meeting new people, exploring new places, not studying vocabulary and taking tests.

…

It was great. 

With the exception of Gaila, no one knew they were acquainted outside the classroom and therefore, with the exception of Gaila, no one questioned why she did nothing more than nod and maybe greet him when they ran into each other, which happened with all the more frequency as the term wore on.

With the exception of Gaila, no one bullied and wiggled their way into her personal life and with the exception of Gaila, no one demanded answers and explanations. Constantly. Repeatedly. Incessantly. 

“We’re not friends,” Nyota explained patiently as Gaila nodded.

“We were friends and now we’re not,” she went on the next night as Gaila sighed.

“It’s completely normal for two people to drift apart,” she clarified that weekend as Gaila crossed her arms.

“But it’s so sad! You two sounded like you were so close.”

“’Were’ being the operative word. We both grew up. Changed.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t try-“

“No, it does,” Nyota said firmly. “I’m different, he’s different, and it’s different between us.”

“Because you two-“

“No. Because… because it just is,” she said, sitting on her bed. “I don’t… I don’t know that even if that hadn’t happened we would be particularly close now. He’s really… Vulcans are really big on boundaries and decorum and I don’t think he would even want a personal relationship with a student even if I wanted one with him.”

“I don’t think he has personal relationships with many people,” Gaila said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I never see him with anyone.”

“Well, that’s… he’s never really had a lot of friends.”

“Except you,” Gaila accused and she felt herself flinch.

“And my brother,” Nyota said quickly. “They still talk all the time. They’re both officers and they were at the Academy together. That’s just how Spock is.”

“Because there’s no chance that he’s just as confused as you are as to what to do with a childhood friend that he got overly friendly with.”

“I can’t believe that would bother him,” Nyota said primly. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Sure,” Gaila said. “I really love how honest you always are. Really great. Thanks.”

“Sorry,” Nyota groaned, laying back on her bed and staring at the ceiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Gaila said gently and that was even worse. “I just don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to be friends with him. I’m his student, he’s my professor and we have, what, a couple weeks left in the semester? A month? I don’t know what to do other than just try to forget all of it,” Nyota said to the ceiling. “It’s easier than trying to… bridge some gap with him when I probably won’t see him again after this term.”

“Great plan. Let me know how it goes.”

“It’ll go great,” Nyota vowed. “How can it not?”

…

It was great. 

She saw him in the cafeteria occasionally, once when she had started an assignment for Advanced Morphology, her plate pushed the side and three padds set out in front of her. She glanced up, saw him walk in and get a salad to go. He didn’t see her, or if he did, didn’t say anything, and she didn’t either. There wasn’t much to say, not that time, or the time she passed him on her way in, intending to grab a cup of coffee as he left with what looked like tea. There wasn’t much to say the time she walked by him as he sat studying a filmplast, a plate of salad in front of him, or the time she glanced up from her comm as she waited in line for soup and realized he had been silently standing next to her as she texted Gaila. 

“Sir,” she said and he nodded and she nodded and she took her lunch to sit with some friends from the Xenolinguistic Club and he must have taken his food back to his office because when she looked up again, he wasn’t in the cafeteria, wasn’t with the other officers who were chatting and laughing. She soon forgot to keep looking when Gaila plopped down next to her and began recounting an extraordinary date with the most handsome and charming Andorian she had ever met.

She saw him at the gym a number of times, once when Gaila was still going on about her Andorian and once when she wasn’t, when she had moved on to a fourth year human and Nyota was grinning and shaking her head as they ran laps. She saw Spock tying his shoes on the side of the track and she didn’t think of him until much later, wondering where he had gone since he hadn’t ended up on the track with them. She saw him once when she was filling her water bottle and he was leaving, his bag slung across his chest and his hands already flicking across a padd as he walked past her, past groups of cadets and officers gossiping and talking with each other, pounding out the stress of Starfleet into treadmills and barbells. 

She saw him on the quad, talking into his comm as he walked towards the Computer Sciences building, turning head after head in his wake and she sighed and rolled her eyes and went back to her notes on Klingon morphology. She saw him the quad again when he walked past her, his eyes flicking up to hers in a concise, succinct movement and he may have nodded at her, or may not have, because he was once again studying the filmplasts in his hands before she had a chance to respond. Before she had a chance to think about it, her comm was chirping and Gaila just had to tell her about this Deltan she met and Nyota was rolling her eyes again and smiling just a bit as she listened patiently.

She saw him in the library as she researched ancient Romulan dialects but he was absorbed his padd and barely looked at her as he walked past, and she saw him there while she worked on one of his take home quizzes, watching his retreating form as she shuffled through her notes, and she saw him there as she researched computer programming, turning away and sliding the text she had taken out back onto its shelf before she had to acknowledge he was there, before he was close enough she couldn’t just slip away and slip the padd he had given her back into her bag, since she could just figure it out another day.

…

“So this line of code,” Nyota asked, turning the padd towards Gaila as her roommate frowned at an assortment of nail polish bottles. “It effects… Gaila? Are you listening?”

“Nope. Gold or silver?”

“Can I just ask you one question about this? Because when I put in a past participle-“

“Yeah,” Gaila said. “I’m not going to help you with that.”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Sure.”

Nyota waited in the long silence that followed Gaila’s reply.

“Are you going to tell me why?”

“Maybe.”

“Is this a big ploy to get me to talk to Spock again?”

“Maybe.”

“Are you serious?”

“Maybe.” Gaila looked up, grinned. “Yes. Definitely. Have fun. Let me know how it goes.”

…

Not asking him for help and not getting it from Gaila was great. Mostly.

Part of being an excellent communications officer was cultivating excellent computer science skills, she knew, her eyes blurring as she stared at the lines of code. Some of it was familiar from courses she had taken in college and some of it was so beyond her knowledge that she started looking at computer programming classes for the next semester.

But she didn’t need an entire course in it, she just had to understand one or two more things and then she could probably just figure out the rest on her own. It was a language. She was great at languages.

She dropped her head to the desk, groaned, sat up straight and tried again.

She knew enough about Spock to know he was probably a skilled programmer, since she could think of only a handful of things that didn’t come naturally to him. One of those was getting I-Chaya to fetch a stick, since the sehlat had had a tendency to slump to the ground and roll over to have his enormous belly rubbed. Another was, apparently, writing programs in a way she could understand and in a way that wasn’t so literal.

“I wish my roommate would help me figure this out,” she said in Standard.

“I necessitate cooperation from the one who shares my barracks,” the program translated in Klingon.

“Great,” she sighed.

“Substantial,” it provided.

“No, great as in-“

“Prominent.”

“Nope.”

“Large.”

She sighed heavily, quit the software, opened the program to study the lines of code once again, closed it, ran the program again.

“I can do this,” she muttered.

“I am capable of accomplishing this task,” it said in Trill.

“Exactly. And I can do it on my own.”

“Precisely. I require no assistance from the Empire,” it said back to her in Romulan.

She put her palm over her face. “Gaila,” she said to her absent roommate. “This sucks.”

“Gaila, I consider this deplorable,” it said in Vulcan.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. Deplorable. It was certainly accurate.

…

It would be great, really great, if everyone would just stop asking about him.

“How’re your classes?” her father asked, steam rising from the mug sitting in front of him and she could almost smell it, could almost imagine reaching for it to inhale deeply, as if the view screen could just open like a window into her childhood home and she could have a break from the Academy. 

“Fine,” she said, letting her gaze trace over the familiar view of her father, their living room. “Interesting. Hard.”

“How’s Spock?” he asked, taking a sip, jolting her back to the here and now.

“Fine,” she said quickly. It wasn’t a lie since she was sure he was fine, not that she had spoken with him or interacted with him or done anything with him lately other than watch him stand silently in a crowded turbolift as she chatted with the other cadets and he studied the floors as they ticked by.

“Is his class still interesting?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It must be so great to have him as a teacher,” her father sighed. “I bet it’s so much fun for you two.”

“Yeah. Listen, is Makena there? Because I can’t find my favorite earrings and she borrowed them when I was home over break and-“

But her father was shaking his head, the nostalgic smile still on his face. “No, she’s out with Gabe still. Something about flowers. Or caterers. Or the band. Tell me more about your classes.”

She did, detailing how her midterms went, how she loved her Advanced Morphology professor, how she was thinking about joining the Academy chorus if she was sure she’d have enough time.

“You should, you love singing,” her father nodded.

“She should do what?” her mother called and Nyota watched her walk onto the screen, shedding her jacket and smiling at her as Nyota smiled back. “Hello, dear. We miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said, swallowing hard. “I was telling Dad about the Academy chorus.”

“Wonderful!” her mother exclaimed, sinking into the chair her father vacated for her. “Now tell me everything you just told your father. How were your midterms? How are classes? How’s that lovely roommate of yours?”

Nyota smiled and recounted all the details she could remember.

“How’s Spock?” her mother asked, leaning forward. “You two were always thick as thieves. You must just love having him there with you.”

“Fine,” she said, swallowing again and resisting the urge to look away from her mother’s gaze. “I don’t, um, see him that much. Busy, you know.”

“That is really no excuse, Nyota-“

“Speaking of busy,” her father interrupted and Nyota felt immense relief at avoiding the look on her mother’s face. “Have you heard from your brother recently? I sent him a message and I got about two words back. No, wait, five. ‘Busy. Talk later. Love, Kam.’ That was it.”

“No, I haven’t,” Nyota frowned. “I told you I saw him before I came home last time, but I guess I’ve just been… busy. I’m sorry. I’ll call him.”

“I just called him,” Nyota heard her sister call over the bang of the door and a clatter of dropped shopping bags and jackets. “Nothing. He’s so fancy with his big old starship and his big old warp thingies-“

“Warp coils,” Gabe gently corrected, hanging up Makena’s coat and straightening her boots where she kicked them off next to the door. “Hi Nyota.”

“Hi Gabe,” she grinned, waving at them both. Her grin faltered as she focused on her sister. “Are you serious? You kept them?”

“You left them behind,” Makena said, raising her hand to her ear. “Scatterbrain.”

“I- you- are you serious?” she asked again, her voice rising. “You couldn’t, I don’t know, send them to me? Let me know? Forestall the hours I spent looking for them?”

“Forestall? Can you just use normal words like a normal person?”

“Girls,” their father sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

“Can you not steal things? Is that not normal, decent, human behavior?”

“Normal? Have you met yourself? Nytoa Uhura, genius of the universe, brilliant beyond belief, just so perfect-”

“Will this ever not be normal for the two of you?” their father asked, still rubbing his forehead.

“Nyota, you should come back for a weekend,” her mother said. “Even if you need to bring your work. I can’t believe I’ve even started to miss the two of you when you’re like this.”

“How is this not like she’s actually home?” Makena asked, her hands flying as she gestured towards the monitor. “She’s told me I’ve done six things wrong already.”

“I have not!”

“Girls,” their father said sharply. “You’re both adults. Please.”

“I’ll send them to you,” Gabe offered, walking forward towards the monitor while Makena muttered ‘traitor’ behind him. “How’re things going? We miss you around here.”

“Hardly,” Makena interjected. “Though I do miss the rest of your wardrobe. Maybe you’ll leave more great things behind next time you visit, you absentminded genius. Speaking of geniuses, how’s Spock?”

“Fine,” Nyota said sharply, then tempered her tone. “He’s fine.”

“That’s great,” Makena said.

“Yep. It is.”

“Come home,” her mother called as the oven timer went off, as Nyota imagined dinner warm and flavorful around their table, laughter and voices ringing out. “Or we’ll come out there if you’re too busy.”

“That’d be great,” she smiled. She looked at her father bending over the stove, the kitchen suddenly alive with movement and activity. “I, uh, have to go do some work,” she said quickly, around a thick knot in her throat. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Call your brother!” her father said from the kitchen. “Give Spock our best.”

“Good luck with your homework,” her mother smiled.

“I’ll send your earrings soon,” her sister grinned.

“I’ll actually send your earrings soon,” Gabe promised. “We miss you.”

“Miss you too,” Nyota said softly to the blank screen as it flickered off. 

…

It was great, because talking to her parents simply reaffirmed how much easier it would be to steer clear of him rather than engage in some mirror of her childhood, some sort of pale echo of it while at the Academy, and ignoring him was easy and forgetting everything between them was simple, especially since she rarely thought about it to begin with.

It was easy enough to see him as just a professor when he acted as such and it was easy enough to forget him as a childhood friend when he never acted like that little boy she had known, that lanky teenager with long limbs and occasional quiet, small smile at her.

His class was interesting and engaging, and while it was difficult at times, she enjoyed it and found the need to focus carefully on the material eclipsed any stray thoughts his familiar mannerisms brought to mind.

It was simple to forget his example about Ferengi views on honor was from that time they were on Tellar Prime when it rained the entire trip and her father and Sarek had recounted a very long afternoon researching everything they could find about Ferengis. It was easy to ignore that his slides on Tholian xenophobia were based off a talk they had been dragged to since none of their parents wanted to leave them alone with such high tensions at that year’s Interstellar Comparative Xenocultural Conference.

It actually hadn’t been that bad, sitting in the back of the lecture hall and being allowed to play games on their padds as long as they were quiet and didn’t move and didn’t disturb anyone. Spock, of course, had no trouble being quiet for a few hours, but he had a lot of trouble keeping his rear deflector shield charged, something she had taken advantage of. Repeatedly. 

She frowned, shook her head to clear it and watched him click through his slides on the Tholian Assembly and their views on expansion and colonization.

“How should Starfleet handle civilizations whose values dictate that subjugating other races is their greatest good, when that principle so wholly rejects the very ethical code the Federation is founded on?” Spock asked, stepping away from his lectern and waiting for a student to raise their hand to provide an answer. “To what degree does preventing a race such as the Tholians from succeeding in their conquest interfere with their natural development, when natural development of species is what Starfleet seeks to support?”

She watched him nod to a Trill whose hand had shot into the air, watched him listen to her response, his eyes as dark and intense as they had been on his padd that day at the conference, their shoulders brushing together and their legs dangling well above the floor as they sat quietly in their chairs and hunted down Kamau’s fighter.

She sighed and dropped her head to her hand, rubbing her temples. Stop, she told herself firmly. Just stop.

…

Nyota cornered Gaila in their room that night. “Listen can I please just ask you one question-“

“You can ask me why I chose the silver nail polish the other day when gold was obviously a better choice.”

“So I was trying to copy this line of code that Spoke wrote, and I couldn’t understand-“

“You know what?” Gaila asked with a wide smile. “You know what’s so amazing about the Academy? We have this enormous staff of professors who are experts at this stuff. Literally, they get paid to teach students how to write code. And, literally, and I know how much you like it when that word is used correctly, the professor who programmed that works at the Academy! And has office hours! Every week!”

“Gaila…”

“And you know what else about this big, fancy school that we attend? There is literally no class on nail polish colors. Which means,” Gaila continued, building steam, “that logically, another student should help me, since it’s important that we seek assistance from those most qualified. Nail polish? You. Computer programming? The Lieutenant. Logical. Literally logical.”

“Gaila, you’re literally at the top of your computer science classes.”

“And you love nail polish. Look at all these colors you have. Flat gold, or gold with sparkles?”

Nyota sighed and dropped her padd back on her bed, pointing to the gold with sparkles. 

“Why do you care so much,” she asked. “Why is this some big thing that’s so important to you?”

“About the nail polish? Hot date tonight.”

“No, about me spending time with Spock.”

“Why is the program so important to you?” Gaila asked and Nyota found she had no real answer beyond a vague curiosity that she couldn’t really articulate, some longing to be adept at using the software like she would have to be on a starship bridge some day. 

Gaila shrugged. “Exactly. I just do.”

…

She saw him around campus, which was normal and natural and of course she did because the Academy wasn’t that big and it wasn’t strange or weird or awkward. It was quiet and detached and distant. 

She asked questions in class and answered his and didn’t go back to his office hours because she just didn’t need to, she could do it on her own, and that was that. She never saw him out of class for more than a handful of minutes at a time and when they did speak, it was stilted and cool. 

She saw him once in the Academy Hall for an all-hands talk on policy and regulation as he sat down at the end of the row she was in and she turned back towards the front, watching the admirals and deans take their own seats. She saw him in the lobby of the Xenolinguistics department as she walked to class, and she saw him in the hallway as she left Proffessor Uley’s office hours, and she saw him in the break room when he came in with Professor Eneis, who gave her a wide smile.

“Cadet Uhura!” he exclaimed, approaching her where she sat with a half a cup coffee and a dozen padds spread out in front of her, his perpetual chuckle shaking his shoulders each time he talked. “Doing your reading for your favorite class?”

“Yours?” she laughed, then tipped her padd towards him so he could see she was, indeed, working on her Advanced Morphology assignment.

“My best student. Though I hear some other professors have tried to make the same claim,” he said with a grin and a nod towards Spock and she glanced at him, then quickly away again. “Just getting some tea, dear, and talking about next semester. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Not at all,” she said as he smiled at her again and walked over to the replicator to join Spock, who stood quiet and still as the older man chatted.

“Have you finished writing your final for your section of Advanced Morphology? I’m still grading the last round of papers – Uhura, you’ll have yours back next week – and I always think multiple choice would just be easier, of course, but I just love reading what these brilliant minds come up with. And – oh, what kind of tea is that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before. Is it from Vulcan? It must be,” the older man said, his smile still wide, turning back to her. “You’ve been so many places, Cadet Uhura, have you tried it?”

“Um, yes, I have,” she said quickly, glancing back down at her work.

“Do you know all about the cadet’s travels?” Eneis continued to Spock as Nyota felt her cheeks burn. “She has the most wonderful stories about the places her parents took her. No wonder she’s a natural at languages,” he laughed, handing Spock his mug and taking his own.

“Indeed,” Spock said quietly.

“Honey, Lieutenant?” Eneis asked, spooning some into his own tea.

“No, thank you,” he said. It tugged at something deep inside her and she blinked and quickly took a sip of her cold coffee, studying her reading until the two men left.

…

Nyota had stack after stack of padds on her desk and a very chatty, very talkative distracting her.

“Studying,” she said, “I’m studying, Gaila, finals are soon.”

“In like weeks.”

“In a few weeks. And they’re important, you know that.”

“Not as important as telling you about-“

“I’m really, actually trying to read this,” Nyota said, trying to temper her tone.

“Fine,” Gaila sighed, flopping down on her bed, only to sit up again a moment later. “But don’t let me forget to tell you about-“

“Gaila.”

“Fine.”

Nyota flicked to the next page of her reading, carefully underlining a passage on trimoraic syllables. 

“I went to the Lieutenant’s office hours today,” Gaila finally said and Nyota saw her glance over, trying to catch her eye. 

“Hmm,” she said, studiously reading the next paragraph.

“Vulcans are boring. I didn’t realize that until I went, but I can’t, you know, get anything from him. Not like with humans or Andorians, or Tellarites, let me tell you, those guys are just rife with their pheromones.”

“Rife. Good word.”

“Thanks.”

Nyota finished two more pages of reading while Gaila stared at the ceiling and hummed quietly to herself.

“You know what-“

“Still reading.”

“-He’s actually really helpful. I didn’t know what to expect, but you were right that’s he’s kind of sweet.”

“I never said he was sweet,” Nyota muttered, reaching for her syllabus and checking to see if she needed to read the next chapter.

“Well, that whole story about him. He sounds like he’s secretly a giant teddy bear – is that the right thing? The transitional object parents put in their children’s beds that is based off a ferocious carnivore?”

“They eat berries,” Nyota muttered. She did need to read the next chapter. Damn.

“What?”

“Bears eat berries. And honey. They’re omnivores.”

“But ferocious.”

“Sure.” She sighed, trying to concentrate on the next chapter with Gaila still talking. 

“Right, ferocious if you’re a blueberry. Or a salmon. Or a bumblebee. I saw a documentary on Terran wildlife. Anyway, Spock sounds like under that whole austere, puritanical exterior he really-“

“He really would prefer that we do our reading for his class,” Nyota interjected. “I would prefer that too. Imagine that. Something he and I agree on.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Common ground.”

There was blessed silence for three whole pages as Nyota clicked through them, taking notes and trying to focus with Gaila still humming.

“Don’t you want to know why I went to his office hours?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“I assume it’s some clandestine computer programming thing that you’re not going to tell me about even if I ask.”

“Yep.”

“So you just brought this whole thing up just to tell me you’d seen him?” Nyota tried very hard to not grit her teeth, staring at the words on the padd and willing them to resolve themselves into something she could comprehend despite Gaila’s chatter.

“Basically.”

“Why are you so determined that we become friends again? Can’t you just leave it alone?” she sighed, exasperation clouding her voice.

“Nope.”

“But why do you care so much?”

“Because I do.”

“But why?”

“Because.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“I just do,” Gaila shrugged and Nyota felt her hand tighten around her stylus, the pressure of homework, of the exhaustion of the Academy, the prattle of a tireless roommate wearing on her. “Someone has to.”

“No,” she flared. “No one has to. No one has to care about this. You are literally the only one.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true.” 

“He doesn’t, I don’t.” She pointedly turned back to her work. “I care about my reading. And my grades. And my career. Not some guy I knew when I was twelve.”

“Maybe he does care.”

“Leave it alone. You’re making this big huge deal out of this.”

“But you don’t know, maybe he cares a lot,” Gaila needled. “I mean, maybe he doesn’t, I can’t really tell, but aren’t you curious?”

“No.”

“But don’t you want to just see what it would be like to get to know him again?”

“No. I want to do my reading.” She unclenched her jaw, tried again in a softer voice. “Please.”

“Because maybe he wants to and you’ll never know.”

“He doesn’t!” Nyota finally snapped. “He just doesn’t!”

“Because you were so incredibly friendly and welcoming to him?” Gaila snapped back. “Because you went out of your way to make sure that after all this time he was comfortable and that he knew you were comfortable?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does! Because you have this huge family and all these friends and you could have another one and you just don’t care! You’re so… so privileged with people who love you who you get to talk to all the time that you can just pick and choose and walk away when it’s too hard!”

“I…”

“And,” Gaila continued, her voice raised, her hands waving. She looked suddenly, horribly, close to tears and Nyota felt the weight of the Academy press against them both, against her in that familiar stress she understood and carried with her each day, and against Gaila in a way she obviously, completely didn’t understand. “You’re so lucky to have all these people in your life that you didn’t have to leave behind to come here, and you have so many of them that you can just not care when you don’t have to! You can just let them slip away from you as if they’re not all precious, like having a close friend has no value, cause you can just make another! Not all of us get to do that!”

“It’s none of your business,” she heard herself snap, even though that wasn’t what she meant, wasn’t what she wanted to say, not really. Not at all.

“No kidding. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind in the future,” Gaila said heavily with a sigh, closing her eyes briefly, grabbing her jacket and walking towards the door. “I’ll stop bothering you. I’ll just… see you later.”

…

Nyota walked across the quad that evening in a soft mist of rain, thinking about Gaila’s words and feeling horrible when she heard soft footfalls behind her and glanced up, hoping.

“Oh,” she said quickly, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “Sir. Hi.”

“Cadet,” Spock said with a nod. He kept going, passing her and walking away and she stared after him, standing alone on the wet grass, folding her arms tight around herself against the damp chill.


	8. Chapter 8

“It’s fine.” Gaila’s voice was soft when Nyota found her in their room again, folding her laundry and putting it away in all to neat a manner for her. “I didn’t mean to make such a big deal about it. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

“It’s not fine,” Nyota said quickly, taking a step towards her, and then another. “I-I’m not always good at communicating. Obviously.”

“Ironically,” Gaila corrected.

Nyota smiled softly, wanting to reach for her roommate’s arm, her hand, give her a hug. “It is ironic. And I never, ever meant to hurt you and I did and I’m sorry.”

Gaila turned away towards her dresser, lining up her socks in tidy rows in her drawer in a way that tugged at Nyota’s chest, the neatness so uncharacteristic that she began to miss the wild swirl of fabric that seemed to distinguish Gaila’s organizational style.

“It’s fine,” Gaila said again, pushing the drawer closed and looking vaguely surprised by how easily it shut with everything inside it folded.

Nyota pushed on, wanting Gaila to engage with her again, wanting that smile and bounce to come back. “I… I never really asked about your family, or what you did before you came here. And that was a mistake, and rather rude, and I get that. It’s not an excuse, but I kind of figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would, since it’s not like you don’t tell me other personal stuff all the time. And I’d like to know, if you’d like to tell me.”

Gaila crossed her arms, looking confused. No, Nyota thought, thoroughly bewildered. “What personal stuff?”

“All the…” Nyota made a vague gesture, ending up pointing at Gaila’s bed. “With the guys. You tell me all about it. In great detail. All the time.”

Gaila frowned. “That’s not personal, Nyota, that’s sex. I think you need a remedial interspecies ethics course.”

“So I can see Spock more?” Nyota asked with a small smile, trying to drag one out of her roommate as well.

Gaila sighed but she wasn’t frowning anymore. “This isn’t green paint. I’m not human. Not even half, like our favorite, overly demanding and needlessly rigorous professor.”

“I know.”

“No. I mean yes, you do, better than most around here, but it’s… all this, everything here is just…” she waved her hand around their room, gesturing towards their window out towards the rest of the Academy. “Different. Really, really different.”

“I’m sorry.” Nyota sank slowly down on her bed, watching Gaila stare glumly at the walls of their room. “Do you want to talk about it? Or about your home?”

“No. And definitely not. I left that. And I’m here now and I’m staying here and that’s all behind me.”

“But I did something-“ she took a deep breath, let it out. “With me and Spock, it… you didn’t, don’t like that, when I don’t talk to him after we were so close. It offends you.”

“It’s an Orion thing,” Gaila said to her hands.

Nyota sat and watched her for a long time, the fall of her curls over her face, the way her fingers twisted hard and tight together, the dip of her shoulders like she was curling in on herself.

“You left someone close to you,” Nyota guessed, trying to parse Gaila’s words and her silences. “Which, in Orion culture, is abhorrent.”

“What? Can you use normal words?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Unforgivable?” Nyota tried. “Inexcusable? I mean, even worse than it is here. It’s like… a crime? Sinful? I don’t know Orion well enough to know how to translate what I mean.”

“I left a lot of people.” Gaila looked up at her with a glare. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ok.” Nyota stood, took a step across the space between their beds, then another, sinking down to sit next to her roommate. “You did what was right for you and that’s… I guess maybe that’s ok, or it’s not ok, depending on how you look at it. But I’m glad you’re here.” Nyota tucked her arm around her roommate, sitting there for a long moment, Gaila still and stiff next to her. “I’ll try harder with Spock. I will anyway, because you’re right, and I will because it means so much to you.”

Gaila nodded, still looking down at her hands.

“I think you had a good reason to leave, knowing you,” Nyota whispered, squeezing her tight. “You’re a good person, probably better than I am. Very brave.”

“That is an incredibly human-normative judgment. Way to go around imposing your own culture’s values on other species,” Gaila sniffed, dragging her hand across her face.

“Did you actually do your reading?” Nyota pulled back to look at her.

“Sometimes I do.” Gaila shrugged and Nyota heard her swallow thickly, but she leaned into her a bit and Nyota squeezed her again. “I’ve worked my way through most of the cadets. Not much to do until the new class gets here at the end of the summer.”

“I’m really sorry,” Nyota said again. “About everything. And also, let’s reinstate the no sex in the room policy.”

“No big words in the room.”

Nyota frowned. “I’m a xenolinguist, how am I supposed to-“

“I’m Orion. It’s like breathing.”

“Yeah, but I can be silent about words, you won’t even know-“

“I can have sex silently.”

“…Can you?”

“Yes.” Gaila crossed her arms. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to practice.”

“Practice silently. Inaudibly,” Nyota supplied. “Indistinctly. Imperceptibly. Undetectably. Indiscernibly.”

“I’m going to have sex in your bed,” Gaila muttered but she was smiling. “And not tell you about it.”

…

It had been easier, before, to ignore Spock and it had been easier to ignore how he ignored her, his eyes barely meeting hers. That day during orientation when he had caught up with her, had greeted her, seemed to be a rare anomaly between them, a rare memory of a distant past. Her interactions with him were a series of polite greetings and quick nods the few times they made eye contact and she didn’t know how to change that. 

A hard knot settled in her throat and stomach when she saw him now, grinding at her. It wouldn’t go away as she watched him teach his class, her memory supplying recollections of him teaching her Vulcan as he taught Bolian views on ethics, him teaching her how to calibrate a tricorder as he explained Andorian morals, him teaching her the names of the constellations they could see from his parent’s porch as the desert cooled around them, their small hands reaching towards the sky, their families forgotten behind them in the house because they didn’t care as much as she and Spock did, staring at the sky above them and talking about the stars.

Now, he said things like “To what extent are we certain that warp capability is the correct determination of a time to establish First Contact,” or “Please come prepared for a quiz on the history and establishment of the Prime Directive.” He said things like “You are dismissed,” to a clamor of cadets rising and packing their belongings and he said things like “Your performance was satisfactory” as cadets groaned over their marks from him and he said things like “Please review Xiao’s theorem on interspecies non verbal communication” as he clasped his hands behind his back, standing behind his lectern straight and tall and stiff. He did not say “I-Chaya, please retrieve the stick” or “Perhaps we can explore the remainder of the Forge tomorrow, if you are amenable” or “You are quite accomplished at destroying asteroids with your photon torpedoes in this simulation” as she laughed and jostled her shoulder against his on the floor of her parent’s living room, telling him it was a video game and yes, she was incredibly good at it, thank you very much.

He did things like hand back assignments and hand out new ones, not hand her a bowl of barkaya over his parents kitchen table, and he did things like flick on lecture slides, not flick through readings on the tricorder they held between them over an interesting rock.

She did things like watch him disappear into the crowd in a hallway, not catch up to him and ask if he could take her to the market in ShiKar because Lady Amanda just left with Makena and she wanted to go too. She did things like listen to Schubert and Bach while she studied, not turn to him and ask him to play Beethoven again on his ka'athyra as they sat on his bed, or on the piano in her parents house as her sister and brother played outside and she and Spock talked about the music they both loved.

She did things like watch him walk away, out of his classroom, out of a turbolift, out of the xenolinguistics building and across the quad, a solitary figure against the crowd as she went off with her friends and with Gaila, happy chatter and laughter drowning out the silence between her and Spock. She did things like watch him instead of go after him and she needed to change that.

...

They had a script, it often seemed, with a lot of ‘sir’ and ‘cadet’ and ‘good day’ and ‘see you later.’ They had a script and she thought of a million things to say to him and found she couldn’t voice any, not in questions after class, not when she saw him in the break room, not when she almost bumped into him on the steps of the gym. The words wouldn’t come, not “Hi, how are you,” or “How’s your day going” or “I liked that article you assigned last week, it was really interesting.”

Instead, they had their script and it didn’t seem to rewrite itself no matter how much she thought about it, how much she focused on changing it. It didn’t seem to include anything but her throat gumming up when she opened her mouth to speak, didn’t seem to include anything other than his rank and a greeting, and it didn’t seem to include the hundreds, thousands, of other words she knew in any language, in her language, in his. 

The words she was used to speaking to him as a cadet and as his student certainly did not include glancing up on a Sunday morning while she enjoyed a coffee – real coffee at a café, not that replicated stuff from the cafeteria – and realizing she recognized a woman who had just walked in and then realizing exactly where she recognized her from. It also did not include Spock a step behind her, wearing civilian clothes, a small smile on his face as he leaned down to say something to his mother, that same smile fading when he looked up and his eyes met her own. 

“Nyota?” she heard as if from a great distance, a distance that included many years and a different life. “Nyota Uhura? Look at you!”

“Lady Amanda.” The words felt foreign in her mouth and she stood automatically, stepping into the other woman’s arms like the old habit it was, her body moving on its own accord with some unremembered familiarity as she returned the hug. “Hi.”

“Look at you, dear. And just Amanda, please. You’re all grown up.” Amanda’s hands were gentle, soft on her shoulders as she smiled at her and Nyota felt her own smile grow, the other woman’s presence the balm of warmth and kindness it had always been. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Nyota said, finding her voice as Amanda stepped away, briefly clasping her hands in such a Vulcan gesture that Nyota smiled again, squeezing back, memories surging around her as she took in the older woman’s dark eyes, so like her son’s, took in her air of grace and poise.

“And you! Last time I saw you, you were on your way to college, though I think I’ll always remember you covered with chocolate on Argelius II.”

“Oh god,” Nyota grinned, covering her face with one hand like she could shield herself from the memory. “That was horrible. I can’t believe that happened.” 

“Nonsense, the Argelius Ambassador still asks after you and your sister all these years later, and I can hardly answer him these days. What have you been doing all this time?”

“College. The Academy. Right now, I have a paper on High Romulan dialects that I’m working on and I have a final for, uh,” she paused, looking up from Amanda’s beaming smile to Spock, still and silent, standing behind her, “I have a final for Spock’s class coming up.”

“I heard all about you in that class. You’re quite the accomplished xenocultural interpreter. Though, of course, you always were.”

Nyota felt herself flush, glancing at Spock’s studied non-expression and then quickly away again. “It’s a little harder to remember all of Roseau’s theories than just running around on Tellar Prime with, what was his name-“

“Gral?” Amanda supplied. “The Ambassador’s son? Was he the one you-“

“With the Auxiliary Subspace Control Matrix?” Nyota couldn’t help but laugh, the memories flooding back in a rush. “Spilling all that, what was it? Lemonade? That my parents had brought?”

“Because your sister wouldn’t drink anything else,” Amanda confirmed. “All over the panel.”

“I’m amazed Starfleet let me in,” Nyota grinned. “I nearly set off a dozen diplomatic incidents before I was seven. You would think they’d have better background checks for cadets who short out subspace panels with a cup of juice.”

“I’m fairly certain Spock was supposed to be watching you both, so really-“

“Coffee?” Spock interrupted, gesturing towards the counter, his voice jolting Nyota back to the present, back to the sight of him out of his uniform, back to the way he held himself with such comfort and ease when he was near his mother, so different than how she normally saw him these days.

“Yes, dear, thank you,” Amanda said, her hand briefly pressing against Spock’s arm.

He looked back at Nyota as his mother picked a piece of lint off his shirt and smoothed her hand down his sleeve, his eyes barely meeting her own before he nodded to her mug on the table and, following his gaze, she shook her head.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, quickly turning back towards Amanda as Spock turned away towards the counter. “I just, wow, I had no idea you were visiting, it’s so good to see you again.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ve heard so much about you this semester. Spock just raves about you in his class.”

“I’m sure that’s not-“

“Well, raves. I’ve been on Earth too long already,” Amanda said with a wry smile. “A couple hours among humans and I forget myself. You know what I mean, of course.”

“Of course,” Nyota agreed and promptly latched onto the other part of Amanda’s sentence, eyeing Spock where he was ordering coffee at the counter. “You just arrived?”

“I’m just here for a bit, just for the afternoon, really, very last minute. Sarek has some business at the Embassy and we’re off to Ganymede this evening. I just wanted to see Spock and get a cup of coffee which, as you know, is quite a treat living on Vulcan and the logical avoidance of caffeine as a stimulant,” Amanda laughed, somehow making the word ‘logical’ sound both like an endearing compliment and an exasperating annoyance. Nyota glanced over at Spock taking a cup from the barista and handing over his credit chip before Amanda’s voice brought her back to their conversation. “It is such a delightful surprise to see you, dear. How is your family? I really must give your parents a call sometime soon.”

“They’re great. Makena’s getting married to a musician, Gabe, and she’s still teaching art classes.“

“You’re parents must be thrilled. And Terran weddings are so much more fun than Vulcan ones.”

“I should certainly be able to explain the intercultural differences. Spock assigned a hundred pages of reading about evaluating and comparing xenocultural traditions,” Nyota laughed, shaking her head. “’The Twelve Steps Of Contrasting And Analyzing Rituals To Further Cultural Understanding.’ Longest article ever.”

“Ninety four,” Spock said quietly, appearing beside them and handing his mother her coffee. “I assigned ninety four pages, not one hundred. And it was hardly the longest article of the semester.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mind, Nyota, because if I remember anything, it’s how much you always read as a child. I’ll never forget the two of you on Andor with that enormous epic poem you found in the Embassy’s library. You were both reading that until we had to come fetch you for dinner, and neither of you wanted to leave it to eat,” Amanda said, looking between them with a small smile, wrapping both hands around her cup. “That must have been the trip you and your brother and sister had that snowball fight. The three of you, completely covered in snow, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that, your poor father thinking you’d all catch colds.”

Nyota couldn’t help but laugh again. “I think Kamau got about six handfuls of snow down my jacket before Makena started pelting him. We never got snow at home. It was such a treat.” She remembered the wet slide of snow down her back, her parents making them dry off and warm up, her wanderings later that day leading her to the library, to Spock bent over the poem, him shifting aside so that she could climb onto the seat next to him as they slowly translated the foreign language. 

“How is your brother? Still on the Eisenhower?”

“Yes, still on the Eisenhower. Same as ever. We haven’t really had time to talk much lately.”

Spock’s eyes darting up to hers caught her off guard and she started when he spoke to her. “You have not spoken with him?”

“I, um, no,” she faltered, the sudden intensity of his gaze, the way he watched her so closely when she spoke making her hesitate. “I’ve been pretty busy, I guess. I meant to-”

She was interrupted by the ping of Amanda’s comm, the other woman pulling it out and scrolling through the message that lit up the screen.

“So sorry, dear,” she said to Nyota, handing her cup to Spock so she could step forward to hug her again as Nyota desperately wished for more time with her, more of a break from her work, more of a chance to step backwards into their shared past. “Such a short visit, I hope I’ll be back again soon.”

“That would be so nice.” 

“You’re always, always welcome to come see us on Vulcan, if you ever have a break from the Academy. We would so love to have you visit again.”

“I’d love that. I have a research posting here this summer, but you never know.”

“The VSA is developing a new linguistics program, but of course Spock must have told you all about it.” Amanda said retrieving her cup from her son and slipping her comm back in her pocket. She reached out and squeezed Nyota’s hand again before stepping back towards her son. “Good luck on finals.”

“Thanks, Amanda. Safe travels,” Nyota said, her throat working hard to swallow and that same, hard knot in her chest, in her stomach as Amanda turned away.

“Won’t you come, just for a moment, just to say hello?” Nyota heard Amanda ask as she and Spock moved towards the door.

“I must return to the office, Mother,” she heard as his reply, the rest of their conversation – Spock shaking his head and Amanda looking up at him – cut off by the door closing behind them as Nyota stared after them, swallowing thickly, and slowly turned back to her work.

…

“Talked to Spock,” Nyota triumphantly reported, dropping her bag on her bed. “At least a dozen words. You should be so proud of me.”

“Yeah, I’m over it,” Gaila said from amidst the stacks of padds that threatened to swallow her entire side of the room. She twisted a handful of hair around her hand, her eyes, when she finally looked up, slightly wild and bloodshot. 

Nyota sighed, crossed her arms. “Did you just realize finals are next week?”

“Yes,” Gaila groaned.

“Did you just start studying?”

“Yes.” She scrubbed a green hand over her face.

“Did you look at what we need to review for Interspecies Ethics?”

“Yes.” It sounded like a sob.

“Do you want help?”

“I want help so bad I will never, ever, bug you about the Lieutenant again.”

“I happen to know a lot about Orion customs,” Nyota said, shaking her head as she pulled out the study guide she had already made for Spock’s class. Gaila looked so ridiculously grateful Nyota had to laugh. “And I happen to know lying is frowned upon. But I’ll help you anyway.”

…

Nyota didn’t know if finals were easier this semester because she knew what to expect, or worse because she was dreading it. She finished her Advanced Romulan assignment the afternoon before it was due, reread it, realized she could flesh out a paragraph about idiolects, and went back to the library despite only having left it a half hour before. She spent the evening researching and each time she imagined having enough material, she imagined not getting the best mark in the class and did another search with slightly different terms, reading through article after article until her eyes blurred. She finally, finally, finished that paper sometime after she probably should have just gone to bed and definitely after she should have eaten dinner. She walked across the quad to her dorm in a bleary haze, thinking she should have felt lighter after handing in a paper and finishing a class, only to feel the burden of the rest of her finals press in around her. 

She called her brother after three solid days of studying, wanting to commiserate about the Academy and wanting to know how he possibly survived this for four years, the weight of competition from other brilliant cadets, the expectations of challenging professors giving her alternating headaches and heart palpitations. He didn’t pick up her first call or her second and she scanned through the Starfleet log of ship’s positions, wondering if the Eisenhower was on one of those missions that was labeled in the Beta Quandrant and was really somewhere else. But no, there was it’s name right next to the Farragut’s at Rigel IV, and Nyota had seen the data packs both ships had just sent back to the Academy for third and fourth year cadets to pick apart for their own research. She called him again, sighed, wrote him a message and sat down to write another paper.

She finished her Advanced Morphology paper ahead of time, dropping it off at Eneis’ office, who invited her in for tea, invited her to come take a break for a couple minutes, to not work so hard. 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. “Maybe after finals.”

“I’ll see you right back here after finals,” he laughed. “I’ll have you researching all summer.”

“I have a weekend to rest,” she said with a grin, backing away from his door. “Should be enough.”

“Take care of yourself!” she heard him call as she shouldered her bag, flicking through her padd with her notes for Spock’s class on it, her head already swimming as she imagined all that material somehow fitting itself into her brain.

…

It was, in the end, she thought, not that bad. Admittedly, it was easier to think that after the sweet satisfaction of setting down her stylus at the end of Spock’s exam, after turning in all her other papers, after having slept an entire night and after waking up well after her alarm would have normally gone off. She had spent the morning having a massively huge breakfast with Gaila, watching her roommate eat ice cream and cake with an enthusiasm Nyota had missed over the last few weeks. An enthusiasm that almost tempered the many eyerolls and groans when the alert came through that her exam was graded and Nyota immediately stood and pushed her chair back, heading out of the mess hall.

The Academy had already mostly emptied after the conclusion of the semester, the quad quiet and empty, the summer sun shining through the fog with the promise of the beach, maybe, or at least an afternoon where she could relax for a few hours.

The halls echoed with the same emptiness as the rest of campus, her footsteps the only sound as she approached Spock’s office, stopping at the table with neatly stacked padds just outside his closed door. She quickly found her own and leaned against the wall, flicking it on and reviewing his comments on her exam, exhaling a breath she didn’t know she was holding when she saw her grade. Her incredibly excellent, exemplary grade that she had to look at twice before allowing herself a small smile.

She was buried deep in her third essay answer when his office door opened and she found herself suddenly eyelevel with the Starfleet insignia on his uniform, blinking at it before she registered how close to his door she was standing. She quickly stepped away even as he did, the quick shuffle of their boots the only sound in the empty hall. 

“Sorry,” she said automatically, glancing up at him then away again as he stood completely still, a stack of padds tucked under one arm. “Sir.”

“Cadet,” he said with his customary nod. “Well done on your exam.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

“And congratulations on completing your first year,” he said as she took another step away, towards the turbolift.

“Thanks. I was just…” She trailed off, waving to the padd she had been reading.

“Of course,” he said, then just looked at her for a very long, very silent moment.

“Do you mind if I take this?” she asked, glancing back towards the lift. “Just to look it over some more?”

“Of course not,” he said and then fell silent again, turning to lock his office door and following her to the turbolift where the quiet pressed close around them, oppressive and overwhelming.

“I enjoyed your class,” she finally said into the stillness.

He looked over at her as if assessing the honesty of her statement.

“You performed admirably,” he said after a long moment, looking back at the floors rapidly flicking by through the translucent door.

“Thanks,” she said automatically, then frantically tried to pull out another topic. “It was great to see your mother the other day. That was a nice surprise.”

She kept her eyes on the doors as they slid open but still felt him look at her again.

“I concur,” he said eventually as they crossed the empty entrance hall, normally teeming with students and staff. Their footsteps rang hollow against the tile floor, the only sound she could hear in the silence before he spoke again. “Her visit was quite gratifying.”

He held open one of the old fashioned doors for her and she stepped past him into the bright, fierce sun. She could feel the heat on her skin, warm and wonderful, a rare break in the fog, the promise of summer and maybe a celebratory drink with Gaila hanging before her.

“Enjoy your summer,” Spock said.

“Thanks,” she said, feeling happy and relaxed as she stood in the warmth, thinking maybe it would be a few drinks, and maybe they would go out dancing, which they hadn’t done in ages, a smile tugging at her mouth as she imagined napping, showering, and getting dressed for a night out.

Spock tilted his head slightly and she thought for a moment he was about to say something, or maybe move closer to her, but he simply nodded and turned, walking up the path that led to the faculty quarters.

She watched him walk away for a long moment before realizing she was just staring at him, and then she was jogging after him and calling his name before she had really thought about it. 

He turned and maybe looked startled for a moment, maybe just jarred by hearing her call him something other than his rank. 

“Wait. Have you-“ Fuck Nyota, she thought, have a plan next time “-um, heard from Kamau recently?” He didn’t really react, even less so than normal, so she soldiered on, her words tumbling fast and thick over each other. “I called him a few times, and my dad said he’s been really busy, but I know that you guys talk all the time, so I thought…” she trailed off, her hand making a vague gesture towards him before she looked down at the offending appendage and made it stop.

Spock didn’t speak for a long time, long enough she tucked her hair behind her ear, shifted her padd to her other hand and focused on not fidgeting. “I spoke with him some time ago.” He sounded like he was weighing his words carefully. “I had thought, perhaps, he would be in touch with you or another member of your family.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to dissemble Spock’s words and the meaning behind them. “Is something going on?”

“Yes.” He looked vaguely uncomfortable. No, she thought, looking at him again, very uncomfortable. “Beyond that, I cannot say.”

“Huh.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “He asked you not to say?”

“Indeed.”

“Huh,” she said again. “Well, thanks, I guess. I mean, I wish he’d just talk to me about it, but I’ll just try again.”

“Repeated attempts are often efficacious.”

“Efficacious. I love that word,” Nyota said, her brain churning as she stared off at nothing, wondering what the heck Kam was up to and why he wouldn’t just say, why he didn’t want to talk about it. When she looked up at Spock again he was still watching her.

“Ineluctable.”

“What?”

“That was your favorite word, I believe.”

“Oh,” she said, then laughed, her brain slowly wrenching its way from her brother and his poor social skills. “When I was twelve, I think. Certainly no scarcity of words to pick from since then.”

“Paucity?” Spock asked and she breathed out a short chuckle, imaging Gaila’s scowl.

“Dearth? I better stop before my roommate catches wind of any multisyllabic words outside of the classroom or I’ll certainly have a severe lack of company until next semester.”

Spock nodded and stepped back, turning towards the faculty quarters again. “Have a pleasant summer.”

“Yeah,” she said, giving him a small wave, her mind going a mile a minute between wondering about her brother and wondering whether ‘ineluctable’ was, perhaps, still a pretty good choice for a favorite word. “You, um, you too. Maybe I’ll see you around.”


	9. Chapter 8

“New ice cream shop,” Gaila said the first day of their break. “Let’s go.”

“New candy store,” she said the second.

“New pastry place,” she said the third.

“New running route,” Nyota corrected the morning of the fourth when Gaila found them a new bakery they hadn’t tried, lacing up her shoes and grabbing her earbuds. “And I have to start work with Eneis this afternoon.”

“Lame.”

“Your Terran colloquialisms are laudable. Meritorious, really.”

“Out.” Gaila pointed towards their door. “I’m going by myself. Invitation rescinded.”

“Good word.”

“Out!”

…

She sat on the top floor of the Academy Hall, watching the fog roll in and eating her sandwich, enjoying the quiet and the time to read a novel, something so rare she became absorbed enough to, apparently, block out the sound of footsteps behind her. She jumped when she finally heard him, her head whipping around towards the noise.

“I apologize,” Spock said quickly, stiffly, looking as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

“I was just reading,” she said, which was obvious and an awkward thing to say and she stopped herself from gesturing to her padd.

“And eating lunch,” he pointed out and she wondered if he was teasing her.

“And eating lunch,” she confirmed, then fell silent, then saw his own food in his hand, then grimaced to herself and said, “would you like to join me?”

He would, apparently, sitting down next to her and unwrapping his food.

They ate in silence for a long moment. She eyed his exceptionally boring looking salad, thinking that Gaila might have a point about inedibility.

“It’s often a nice view up here,” she said for something to fill the silence.

He glanced at the thick blanket of fog out the window and back at her.

“Well sometimes,” she muttered, taking another bite.

“I am aware.”

“Right.”

Of course he was, she thought, he probably came up here all the time. He was probably doing that very Vulcan thing of telling himself he wasn’t annoyed by her unexpected presence. She looked up at him to see if she was right and found him watching her.

“What are you reading?” he asked at length and she blinked and looked away from him, realizing they were just staring at each other.

“Beowulf.”

“Ah.”

He took another bite of salad and she finished her sandwich, wrapping up the foil and sticking it back in its bag, the rustling overly loud and jarring in the stillness.

“Which translation?” he asked once she was done.

“Grundtvig’s.”

He nodded and went back to his meal.

“The 1815 one, not his 1832 translation,” she finally offered.

“Have you read the one Lehnert’s completed in 1939?”

“I didn’t think it was that good,” she shrugged. “Not compared to the original text.”

“It was pertinent to the historical period in which it was done.”

“Well, they all are.”

“Naturally.”

She read while he finished his salad, listening to the quiet of the room, the soft sounds of him next to her.

“I was unaware your sister is getting married,” he finally said, closing the container his salad had been in.

“Yeah to the guy she was seeing the last time-“ Nyota paused and felt her face flush hot. “The last time we were on Vulcan.”

“I see.”

He had a perfect memory, she knew, and therefore a perfect recollection of that entire trip, that last day they were there.

She found herself wondering what would have happened if Gabe hadn’t had called Makena that morning, if it had been the three of them together all day. She probably wouldn’t be sitting there staring blindly at her padd, she thought, wondering if he was thinking about the same thing.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” she said quickly, standing up and grabbing her bag and the wrappings of her sandwich.

“Nyota.” Her name sounded foreign and unusual coming from him.

She held her breath, looking somewhere at the floor next to his boot, tensed against what he could possibly say.

“Your padd.” He picked it up from where she had left it and held it out.

“Oh. Right.” She exhaled, blinking, reaching forward to take it. “Thanks.”

“Please pass along my congratulations to your sister.”

“I will.”

She had heard him use logic to justify hundreds of things to his parents when he was young – that I-Chaya should be allowed to be in the dining room for dinner, as he was unobtrusive and the requisite time to convince him to leave was a greater hindrance than his presence, that Spock and Nyota should be allowed to stay up past midnight to observe the meteor shower as it was only 1300 in Mombassa and it would aid her return to her normal circadian rhythm when she went back to Earth in two day’s time, that he should be excused from school because learning about Earth’s culture from the Uhura children was a more applicable and experiential avenue of education than his course work that week. She wondered, as she took the lift down, what he was telling himself that he wasn’t following her this time, as he had no other food with him, nor had he brought work and logically, there were very few reasons he should not walk out with her.

She wondered again what it would have been like if Gabe hadn’t called, if she and Makena had spent the day annoying Spock with their endless bickering, if Makena had been there when they climbed out of the pool. They all would have just gotten dressed and driven home, she guessed, and she and Makena would have fought about what music to play, and she and Spock would have endured a drive full of endless chatter about Gabe. Instead, her memory of the drive back was of a thick, heavy silence as she stared out the window, aware of every inch of space between her and Spock, neither of them even looking at each other, let alone speaking.

She wondered what it would have been like now, imagining an alternate reality, a different universe where he walked back to work with her, her complaining about her sister’s wedding planning, him telling her about his research. She wondered what else would be different between them, but a hard knot settled in her stomach the more she thought about it and she tried not to, flicking on her padd while she walked and burying herself in her reading.

…

Break was wonderful. Relaxing. A calm, much needed respite from the term that allowed her time to sleep, to exercise, to research at a more reasonable pace.

It was also boring as hell.

“The bar?” Gaila groaned. “We were literally just there, though.”

“We could go to the beach again?” Nyota suggested.

“It’s so sandy.”

“That is, um, quite an issue with beaches.’

“Hand me the roster for next year’s class again.”

“I’m not sure you can be trusted with that information,” Nyota grinned, toeing the padd away from where Gaila was trying to grab it from the floor without actually moving from her bed.

“It’s public record.”

“You’re terrifying.”

“Only terrifying to those who like it,” Gaila said with a halfhearted salacious smile that quickly faded into another bored, heavy sigh.

“I’ll tell you about my research,” Nyota offered. “So today, Eneis got this new subroutine he wanted us to run on-“

“-No-“

“-Ways to parse Romulan morphemes-“

“-This is torture-“

“-And compare them to-“

“-Cruel and unusual-“

“-This dialect that’s only spoken in Vulcan’s northern-“

“-I’m dying-“

“-Province-“

“-This is the end-“

“-Which is really interesting because-“

“-Tell the class of 2259 that I’m sorry-“

“-That Vulcan dialect is really similar to-“

“-I won’t be here for them-“

“-The way they speak in-“

“-They’ll find you standing over my lifeless body-“

“-ShiKar, but only in the sense of a couple words-“

“-Holding your dictionary and a thesaurus, prattling on-“

“-So Eneis is going to have us look at-“

“-I can’t wait for classes to start, just for this to end-“

“-The way in which… wait, you want classes to start again?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Gaila said, sitting up and pinning Nyota with a stare. “But this much free time is just horrible.”

“Abhorrent?”

Gaila muffled her scream in her pillow.

…

She saw Spock quite often in the break room of the xenolinguistics department and with fewer faculty and students on campus, it was often just the two of them there.

“How is your research coming?” he asked the first time she saw him there and she told him, even though she was sure he knew all about it from Eneis.

“Have you selected courses for the fall term?” he asked the second time and she told him about those, too, explaining how she was trying to juggle her schedule so that she could take all the classes she wanted to.

“Have you thought about applying to be a teaching assistant?” he asked the third time and she told him she hadn’t, since most professors wouldn’t take a second year.

“Have you heard about Captain’s Pike recruiting trip?” he asked the fourth time, stirring his tea slowly as she poured her own.

“Out to see the Enterprise? Are you going on it?”

“I will be there.” He looked down at his mug.

She waited him out. He had always been reticent to share details about himself when he didn’t feel they were necessary and she remembered Amanda trying to tease out specifics about his day at school, how his test went, what he had learned from his homework.

“I have an interview with Captain Pike that same day at the Riverside Shipyard,” he finally said.

“Oh.” She set her tea down, couldn’t help but be interested. “For a posting on the Enterprise?”

“Indeed.”

She loved that ship like all the cadets did, like most of Starfleet did, its construction a shining beacon of exploration, of the far reaches of space becoming accessible, of a chance to work among the best and brightest on the newest, finest ship in the fleet.

She could talk about it for hours, she knew, and often had to restrain herself or risk being pelted by styluses and nail files by Gaila. Who, conveniently, wasn’t there right then.

“May I ask what for?” she pressed.

“Science Officer.”

“Which science officer?” she prodded.

“Chief Science Officer.”

“Spock- I mean, Lieutenant, sorry, I just, that’s just great. That’s really great, even just getting an interview. Congratulations. Good luck.”

“Luck is illo-“

“Ah, I hope you’re not taking Cadet Uhura away from me!” Nyota heard from the doorway, Eneis walking in with his usual bouncy cheer. “I know most of the faculty have their eye on her brain, but I won’t be swayed, Lieutenant.”

“Of course not,” Spock said quickly and she heard the change in his voice when he spoke to Eneis, a professional note to it that had been absent a second ago.

“Did you have a chance to ask Uhura about the trip?” Eneis didn’t wait for an answer, turning towards her with a wide smile. “The Lieutenant thought to recommend you to Captain Pike for it, and I quite agree. You would be a wonderful representative of the department.”

“That’s very flattering,” she said, looking back and forth between them, unsure who exactly to thank. “That’s wonderful news, thank you. I’d love to go.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” Eneis continued, opening the cupboard where the tea was kept. “I’d love to get out to Riverside one of these days, but work, of course, as always, keeps me here.”

“Of course,” she said, turning back towards where Spock was, but he was backing out of the room already. She wanted to ask him more questions about his interview, was suddenly burning with them, but he stepped out before she could even begin, Eneis chatting away behind her as she watched the space Spock had just left.

…

“Have you met Captain Pike before?” she asked Spock the next time she saw him, in turbolift on their way into work and he told her that he had, once, briefly.

“Do you know when she’ll launch?” she asked, running into him on the quad and stopping him but he told her that didn’t, that it depended on the availability of dilithium crystals, among other necessary materials.

“Have you been out to the Enterprise yet?” she him in the mess hall as she grabbed a snack after going running.

“Yes.”

She stepped closer to him.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“You will see it for yourself next week.”

She followed him as he got a tray and he looked back at her, seeming surprised that she was still there.

“What’s it like?”

“Currently under construction,” he said, ladling himself a bowl of soup.

“But what’s it _like_?”

“Quite large,” he finally answered as he selected a spoon and she laughed.

“Very funny, Spock. Have you been on board?”

“Not yet.”

He sat down and began to eat. She sat across from him, peeling a banana she had grabbed.

“Are you going on board next week when you’re out there?”

“Yes. Otherwise the interview would be conducted here at Starfleet Headquarters.”

She ate half of her banana in silence before thinking of another question.

“Do you know if any of the other department heads have been selected?”

“The captain is filling the science positions earlier in the construction process, due to the amount of oversight various lab installations will require.”

“Is there going to be a Dynamic Ion Resonance Receiver? Eneis was telling me about a static one that’s on the Lexington that you must have worked with, but the new models apparently pick up even lower frequencies.”

“Yes, I calibrated the one for the Lexington while on board. I am not certain as to whether there will be room for a Resonance Receiver, if Captain Pike decides he would also like to have a Auxiliary Gravimetric Variance Compensator.”

“You would get to help make those kind of choices, if you were Chief Science Officer,” she said and he nodded.

She studied him while he ate. He was so different now than how he was when he was younger, more self assured and confident than he ever had been on Vulcan.

“You’d be a Lieutenant Commander.”

“Indeed.”

“One of the youngest.”

“Yes.” He finished his soup, neatly placing his spoon next to the empty bowl. “Your brother is a Lieutenant Commander and is not much older than myself.”

“You know the sciences are a million times more competitive than engineering.”

“I do not recommend that you tell any engineers that, especially with such a grossly inaccurate mathematical supposition,” he said and she laughed.

She slowly ate the last of her banana, looking at the table in front of her. “I hope I have a career like yours when I’m done here.”

“You will have to improve your mathematical postulations,” he said and she found herself laughing again.

“In all likelihood, you will,” he said, rising from his seat.

“Get better at math? I have an undergrad degree in it, you know.”

“You will have an excellent career, if your first year at the Academy is any indication.”

She felt hot, flustered. “Thank you.”

“It is the logical deduction based on your past performance.”

He was holding out his hand to her and she stared at it, bewildered.

“I can take that for you.” He gestured to her banana peel.

“Oh.” She handed it to him and for a moment could feel the heat of his hand so near her own. “Thanks.”

He looked up at her, his eyes dark eyes catching her own.

“If you would like, Nyota,” he said, “I would be amenable to sharing any more details I learn when we are both back from the Enterprise.”

“That would be great. Good luck preparing for your interview.” She held up a hand before he could speak. “It’s illogical. I got that. Good luck anyway.”

She had always liked his look of exasperation and that almost smile that accompanied it.

She watched him go, already thinking of more questions about the Enterprise to ask him next time they ran into each other.


	10. Chapter 9

It felt like a week of everybody telling her what to do.

“I need the room on Friday night,” Gaila told her, picking up a bra, frowning at it, dropping it on her bed. “The earliest group of first years arrive this week.”

“Is this starting again already?” Nyota groaned. “Can’t you wait until I at least have some homework to do in the library before you kick me out of our room?”

“Nope. Not an option. So sorry.”

“Is this not slightly unfair? It’s my room too.”

“And,” Gaila said, her tone practical, discarding another bra choice. “You are welcome to join us. Or even just watch. I’m getting worried about you.”

“I,” Nyota said crossing her arms, “am fine. And really, no thank you.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone in Iowa,” Gaila grinned.

“Hicks and farm animals. I’m good without them.”

Gaila pulled out another bra, examining it closely. “You never know.”

…

“I need you to work late tonight,” Eneis told her. “I hope that’s ok, Uhura, I’m so sorry for the short notice. I have a meeting down at HQ and this subroutine needs to be monitored by someone until it’s complete.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You’ll have the building to yourself, so make sure to lock up when you’re finished.”

“No one else will be here?” she asked. Spock almost always worked later than any of them, the light from his office spilling into the hall when she walked home each evening.

“We’re all going to the meeting.”

“Oh, ok.” She tucked her hair back, feeling strangely lonely at the idea of the whole department being empty. “Thanks for letting me know, sir.”

…

“You’re going to have to change your schedule around for next semester,” Uley told her. “We need you as a teaching assistant since we had a fourth year get sent to the Outer Rim on a research assignment and we need a replacement. You’re the most qualified.”

“Yes sir,” she said, trying not to flinch under the stern gaze of her academic advisor, mentally removing Intermediate Conversational Andorian from her schedule for next term, which she had wanted to take. She wanted to be a teaching aide more, though, and this made the long nights in the library, the hours of writing papers and studying worth it. 

…

“We’re coming to visit you,” Makena told her as soon as Nyota took her call.

“What? Do I get a say in this? This isn’t the best time, I’m leaving for Iowa and the term’s about to start.”

“Yes,” Gabe said, taking the chair beside Makena so Nyota could see him. “What works best for you? We miss you.”

“No. We’re coming next weekend.”

“I have all these things to do, I have my research to finish, I have to choose my classes, get my texts-”

“Interstellar emergency, Nyota Uhura has to choose her classes. Let’s shut down the planet so you get the peace and quiet you need to make such an important decision-“

“-It is important!”

“Nope. Doesn’t matter. Kamau’s ship is in the system and he’s also coming. Mom and Dad too. Tell Spock.”

“What?”

“Spock,” Makena said slowly as if Nyota couldn’t hear her. “Tall. Nerdy. Half Vulcan.” She turned and put her hands over Gabe’s ears. “Really hot.” She removed her hands and Gabe valiantly didn’t even glare at her. “I want to meet your roommate, too.”

Nyota imagined a world in which Makena and Gaila were in the same room. “No. Absolutely not. The time space continuum will rupture.”

“Yes. We’re going out, too, so pick a good place, not your usual completely horrible choices. Girl’s night.”

“I can’t come?” Gabe asked.

“You can hang out with Spock. Bring a calculator.”

“This is going to be a disaster,” Nyota sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand.

…

“You’re representing Starfleet while you’re here, so be aware of that,” Captain Pike told them, standing with his back to the Enterprise so all the cadets could stare at it.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And Spock was right. It was quite large.

It was disconcerting to see such a huge structure that would certainly look graceful at Spacedock sitting in the middle of cornfields, covered in scaffolding and crawling with workers.

“Wow,” said the cadet next to her. He was enormous and rather burly – security, she guessed. He looked like he was reduced to a little boy as he stared at the ship, his mouth slightly open with wonder, an expression she was sure perfectly mirrored her own.

“And keep your eyes open when you talk to recruits today,” Pike continued, snapping all their gazes away from the ship and back towards him. “You never know who you’ll find around here.”

…

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she tried to tell the guy in the bar. She wanted her shot and to be left alone, not necessarily in that order.

“I’m fine without it,” she tried again. Nobody introduces themselves that way, she wanted to tell him, saying it so that I can pick up your last name. I did completely reject you, she wanted to tell him, absolutely no need for you to try again. Coming over here isn’t going to change my answer, no matter who you are, she wanted to tell him, looking down at the bar and hoping he could take a hint. 

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she tried to tell that same cadet from earlier – Henderoff? Hendorhof? – but he didn’t listen.

It was amazing how she could be the entire focus of the conversation and have everything she said ignored, she thought before the first punch flew.

…

“I’m fine,” she told the cadet when he asked if she was ok, catching up with her as she crossed the parking lot.

“That guy was a total ass.”

You are a total ass, she thought.

“I’m really fine,” she told him again. She didn’t turn around, just kept walking towards the edge of the lot.

“I hope he didn’t bother you.”

You bothered me, she thought.

“I’m good,” she told him. Her hands were shaking.

“I’m glad I was there to help you.”

I didn’t need help, she thought, I needed you to listen to me.

“I missed a call that I have to return,” she told him, slipping her comm from her pocket and trying to hide how she fumbled with it.

He backed off as thumbed through it, thinking that she had probably missed a call at some point, one that she probably did need to return some time in the future.

She was staring blankly at the screen, watching how her hand was still shaking, still hearing the sickening sounds of punches, shattered glass, the rush of blood swelling and pounding through her when she heard steps behind her again.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, spinning around. “Leave me alone. Please.”

“Of course. I apologize.” Spock looked stung, hurt almost, before he looked like nothing at all, smooth and calm and blank. “Excuse me.”

“Wait,” she heard herself call out, felt herself move towards him and he paused mid step, half turned away from her. “I-“ she started, stopped, tried again. “I’m sorry.”

“I did not intend to disturb or interrupt you.”

“You’re not.”

“You are making a call.” He nodded to her hand and she looked down, surprised to find her comm in a white knuckled grip.

“I’m not.” She pushed her comm back in her pocket. She took a deep breath and then another. “I’m just…” 

He looked at her, then around them at the emptiness of the lot, the cornfields, the dark sky arching above them, then back at her. 

“Standing in a parking lot.” 

He said it like it was a fact, and like that fact was ok, like it was logical, an understandable course of action to pursue, rather than choosing to be with the other cadets gossiping and whispering where they stood near the bar.

“Precisely,” she said, echoing his meticulous diction and his careful articulation that were such a relief after the slurred voices and shouts, the grunts of pain, the thick, wet, sounds of blows connecting with flesh.

The sudden lack of adrenaline, the way she felt it drain out of her, left her tired and cold and empty. She sank onto the low stone wall that ran the length of the lot, finding herself staring off at the sky, breathing out a long exhale that helped lower her shoulders, helped ease some of the tension out of her.

She thought about telling him to go away, thought that she wanted to be alone, wanted to maybe call Gaila or Makena but when she raised her hand it was to motion to him, to wave to the space beside her.

He came closer slowly, carefully, resting the padd he carried on his lap as he sat cautiously on the very edge of the wall next to her.

“Fine has variable definitions,” he finally said and she blinked and looked away from where she had been staring at the way his long fingers curled around the edge of his padd.

“What?” 

His hands were so clean, so unmarred by red blood and unbruised by repeated punches.

“You stated you were fine.”

She looked up at him again, taking in his familiar profile, the way the light from the neon sign of the bar played over his face.

“I did?”

He was watching her and she could feel the weight of his full focus on her, like he couldn’t have looked away if he tried. She felt him make a motion as if he was going to reach for her, or touch her, or something, but before she could react she was just watching his hands grip his padd tighter.

“Nyota?”

“How was your interview?” she asked turning from him, staring up at the stars, the shape of the Enterprise silhouetted against the dark sky.

“It has not yet occurred.”

“Oh.” She watched a shower of sparks fall from the starboard nacelle. They flickered out high above the ground and she imagined the welder up on the scaffolding, working through the night to attach deck panels that would someday protect the ship from the vacuum of space. She watched the Enterprise for a long time, listening to the crickets, the muffled music of the bar, the silence and calm of Spock next to her. 

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, turning towards him to find him still looking at her. “Was it supposed to be right now? I’m so sorry.”

“Yes.” His brow furrowed, his head tipping to the side. “However I do not believe I understand the correlation of your statement with Captain Pike’s delay.”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, dropping her gaze from his, searching for words. 

“There was a fight,” she said finally, quietly, watching her hands fiddle with the hem of her skirt. 

He was silent for a long moment.

“May I ask what precipitated the altercation?”

She didn’t answer, didn’t look up at him, just ran her fingers over the red fabric, studying the weave of the fabric, the small stitches along the hem. 

She felt him shift slightly, watched his hands grip his padd again, tighter this time, his pale skin whitening along his knuckles.

“Were you injured?”

Just my pride, she wanted to say. Just the confidence that I can learn any language known to the Federation and then some and still have the agency to have a voice, she wanted to tell him. Just my assurance that I’m going to be judged on merit and the quality of my work and not as a pretty, indefensible woman, she wanted him to know because she thought that of anyone he understood that, had left Vulcan to be known for the work he could do and not who he was.

She shook her head, smoothed down her skirt, then did it again, rubbing her fingers along a stubborn wrinkle in the fabric.

He waited beside her as she took another deep breath.

“I don’t think I’d ever actually seen a fist fight before,” she finally told him and speaking the words aloud loosened something in side of her, made it all a bit better, her thoughts a bit less chaotic. “It’s one thing to see them in holovids and another to be right next to it.” And it’s another thing to be the cause, she thought about telling him but didn’t.

“I believe I remember you being quite proficient at fending off your brother during physical disputes.”

“Pillows,” she qualified. “He used to hit me with that pillow on our couch.”

“I remember,” he said softly and she knew that he did, of course he did, but it was nice to hear him say it out loud, the memory of her parents home, those afternoons as children anchoring her, calming her, focusing her.

“I guess I’ll take a hand to hand combat course,” she said into the quiet of the night. She didn’t want to, not really, not if it meant dropping something else, but she wanted a plan, a way to deal with how she had felt standing pressed back against the bar, men only feet from her hitting each other. “It’d be useful, anyway, if I decide to pursue bridge officer operations,” she told him and herself.

“A logical course of action.” He paused and she disliked the silence, already turning towards him, thinking of something to say, when he spoke again. “May I ask what other courses you have been considering for the semester?”

“Intermediate Subspace Physics,” she said. She hated those courses, hated being bad at something, anything. “Xenoneurolinguistics, maybe. Or maybe the seminar on Comparative Cultural Competencies. I have to figure out how my schedule will work since I was asked to be an aide for Advanced Morphology.”

“Ah.” He looked out at the Enterprise, the line of his back straightening, and she watched him for a long moment before he spoke again. “That would be for my class, I believe.”

“Oh.”

“Professor Eneis is teaching both the beginning and intermediate classes, so I have been asked to teach the advanced sections.”

“Oh.”

“I am not teaching Interspecies Ethics again,” he said, sounding a lot like he was rambling. “But instead will be working on programming a simulation for command track cadets.”

“Oh.” She dragged the toe of her boot along the gravel of the parking lot, listening to how the small rocks scrapped against one another. “So I’d be working for you, not for Eneis.”

He tipped his head to the side, still staring at the Enterprise.

“Affirmative.”

She picked at her nails for a moment. It was a strange thought, to work for him, to spend that much time with him each week, a bizarre circumstance she couldn’t quite get her mind around. She tried to imagine it, tried to envision what it would be like, but she couldn’t, not with the fog of her thoughts so wrapped up in what had happened in the bar, not with the way she kept drawing a blank when she thought about sharing his office, not Eneis’. It was too difficult to reconcile that thought with his presence beside her here in Iowa of all places, with everything else between them, with the fact she had just gotten used to him as a professor and would now have to adjust to him being her boss.

She turned towards him, thinking to ask him if it was ok with him, if maybe it wasn’t the best idea, if maybe one of them should say something to Uley, and stopped herself. He could turn it down, if he wanted to, but she was not going to give up such a great posting, not based on a personal relationship that had no role in getting her the assignment in the first place. 

He didn’t seem like he was about to tell her that he wouldn’t hire her, though, not that she thought he would, not if she was really the best for the job. Instead, she thought that he looked like he really, really wanted her to say something.

“That’s alright,” she said, finding the words were true. “It’ll be fun.”

Something shifted in him. Maybe the stiffness of his shoulders eased or maybe he just wasn’t leaning quite as far away from her.

“I do not believe that is the descriptor many cadets would chose to employ when faced with the prospect of working for me.”

She felt a small smile tug at her mouth. No, she thought, of everything most cadets, at least most of the female ones, wanted to do to him, working for him was not one of them.

“Interesting,” she corrected. “Challenging?”

“Arduous,” he supplied and she found herself smiling, just a little.

They lapsed back into silence as she thought again about working for him, thought about all the hours she had shared with Eneis that she would now share with Spock. She tried to care, tried to summon some emotion about it but she couldn’t. She was too tired, too drained and could only stare at the stars, the ship, the light on his padd blinking steadily in the dark, next to where his hands rested.

The noise from the bar cut out suddenly, patrons spilling into the night air, the cadets milling around outside looking like they were growing bored, getting ready to head to their bunks for the night.

“My sister’s coming to visit,” she told him because she didn’t want to walk back with them, didn’t want to answer their questions or deal with their curiosity, didn’t want to leave behind the cool night air, the stars that were so much closer here than at the Academy, the quiet and calm she finally felt as she sat there next to Spock.

“You do not appear to be overly enthusiastic.” 

“I am. My roommate’s thrilled,” she added, as if Gaila’s eagerness to meet her family could make up for her own lack thereof. “It’s just… you know Makena. She can be exhausting.”

“I have not seen your sister in many years,” he said and she nearly laughed. Ever the diplomat’s son, she thought.

“I’m sure you’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet.” She smiled slightly at the memory of Makena and Spock’s many disastrous interactions. 

“I have, indeed, had a respite from your sister’s…” he trailed off as if searching for the correct word. There was probably no word in Vulcan to accurately describe her sister, Nyota thought.

“Zeal?” she guessed.

“Avidity,” he said and she felt her smile grow.

“You got that right.” She paused, picked at her thumbnail again, thinking she really shouldn’t be having dinner with her future boss but couldn’t possibly not invite him to it, couldn’t answer to him or her family if she ducked out of doing so. “She wanted to know if you wanted to come to dinner. My parents and brother will be there too. And maybe my roommate. I’m not sure… You don’t have to come, of course, especially if it’s… you know, with me working for you, now.”

“Of course.”

The crickets were quite loud, she thought, almost rivaling the chatter of workers and locals walking to their hovercars.

“I do not believe that precludes a dinner with your family,” Spock finally said.

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers along the hem of her skirt again. “Probably not.”

They watched the lot slowly empty, the cadets wander back towards their assigned quarters. 

Dew settled around them and she pulled her jacket on, her arm nearly brushing against his as she shifted.

“Sorry,” she said quickly and he nodded.

The last cars left and lights started blinking off around the Enterprise’s compound.

“I should go back,” she said eventually but made no move to leave.

Instead, she watched the stars, silently naming constellations. She watched the Enterprise, the workers crawling over the structure, their small shapes illuminated by the huge lights that lit the whole shipyard. She watched Spock for a long moment, how he seemed so familiar and so different, so much older now as an adult, as an officer in his uniform, about to be the person she was working for, not the little boy she had climbed rocks with.

She watched a figure finally emerge from the bar, glance around the lot and start walking towards them. She felt Spock straighten next to her, felt him tense slightly, the calm, relaxed atmosphere around them abruptly evaporating.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, looking at him closely. “Are you ok?”

“I am fine,” he said too quickly.

“Fine has-“

He cut her off with a glare and she burst out laughing, the sound breaking through the calm, peaceful night air.

“Good luck,” she whispered to him when Pike was just far enough away to not hear her, grinning when he obviously wrestled with wanting to react to such an illogical statement and wanting to greet the captain properly. “You’ll do great.”

“Too late for you, Mr. Spock?” Pike asked, giving her a once over and apparently deciding she appeared fine.

“No, sir,” Spock answered, his tone suddenly crisp, professional, so different than it had been when it was just the two of them. “Cadet,” he said, nodding at her as he stepped away to follow the captain.

She watched him go and when she looked back down, her hand had drifted to where he had been sitting, the rock warm under her fingers.


	11. Chapter 10

The few days of work with Spock before her family came were professional. Normal. Routine.

If she didn’t know otherwise, while they were working he could have just been her boss, could have just been a Lieutenant who taught a class she had done well in, could have just been a professor in her department she worked for. If she didn’t know better, his office would seem slightly austere, plain, only a handful of items that hinted he had a life beyond those four walls. If she didn’t know him, his voice would seem cool, his instructions both succinct and abrupt, his manner withdrawn, reserved, aloof. She guessed it would be pretty forbidding, or intimidating maybe, to spend so many hours with him so quiet and reticent, concentrating on his work and hardly ever glancing up, hardly interacting with her in favor of his padd, his keyboard and monitor.

But that first day when he greeted her with a polite nod he asked how her trip back from Iowa had been. He handed her a padd with the syllabus for Advanced Morphology and mentioned that he had read her final paper for the class. He outlined what he wanted her to do and before they started working, he asked about the beginning of her term, about her classes that began the next week, and about the first Academy assembly with the new cadets.

She looked around his office and knew that at least half the books on his shelf were ones he had had on Vulcan, knew that his mother had given him that one, and that one. She knew how to read the lines of Vulcan script on the wall hanging behind his desk, knew it was one of his favorite Surakian quotes, knew that it had hung in his room as a child.

She knew that he didn’t waste words, knew that there was no intention behind a curt explanation, no meaning behind how he didn’t speak to her for an entire afternoon as he typed.

And while she could name the buildings in his holo of ShiKahr, could list the books of his she had read, could identify the ways he was so different from Eneis as a boss, she couldn’t always figure out a way to talk to him, couldn’t find that boundary between the different parts of their lives.

“Are you going to go into depth on polysynthetic languages?” she asked, looking over his syllabus.

“I had planned to use Cardassian as an example.”

“Or even Organian, with its-“ she said, paused, stopped herself. “Cardassian’s a good example, I mean. What dialect would you like me to research?”

If she didn’t know him so well, he might have looked annoyed but instead he looked intrigued.

“Well, frankly, not as good as Organian,” she said, bolstered by that small smile, the raised eyebrow and tilted head.

He glanced over at the syllabus on her desk, had that look of drawing his focus inward, contemplative.

“I’m sure you’ve-“

“I had not considered-“

He stopped, cut himself off even as she did and she filled the silence by handing the syllabus back to him.

“Never mind.”

“Please continue,” he said and when she didn’t, he spoke again, quickly. “I had not considered Organian a suitable sample of a polysynthetic language.”

“It just has good noun-past participle integration,” she said, “and syntactic cohesion. But I’m sure you’ve thought this all through so… never mind.”

“Ah.” He paused, looked over the syllabus, which she thought was strange since there was no way he didn’t have it memorized. “Your insight is quite valuable.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a long moment while she watched him read the syllabus again.

“Are you available to come in for the rest of the week?” he asked, turning back to his work. “I believe your assistance with reviewing the distinctions between the two languages would be most helpful.”

Arduous, she thought, and hid a smile. 

“Yeah, sure, I don’t have anything else going on.” She paused. “I mean, yes sir, of course.”

“It is not a requirement,” he said, studying his monitor. “If you have other commitments.”

“It’s fine. I’d be happy to.”

He didn’t have to ask, could have just told her what her schedule was. She also didn’t need to falter over his title, fumble for how they were supposed to interact, wonder where that line was. 

He was her boss, a Lieutenant, a professor. It was supposed to be professional and proper, should have been clear and delineated in terms of roles and boundaries, except that it wasn’t, not really.

“Is it too warm?” he asked, gesturing to the climate controls and she shook her head, relishing the comfort of the room after the foggy drizzle outside, the way the heat reminded her of home.

“Still don’t like cheese?” she asked as he carefully picked through his salad at lunch, her memory full of the time Kam had talked him into a trying some, the look on Spock’s face at the taste.

“Would you care for some tea?” he asked, and brought her back a mug prepared just as she had always taken it.

“Gaming with Kam?” she asked on Friday afternoon, stretching and glancing over at his screen to see a model of a Klingon warbird, animated so that it was flying back and forth, photon torpedoes blazing.

“I would hardly have chosen a D-12 class ship,” he said, hitting another key so that a second ship decloaked and started firing.

“I’m not so sure. Does Starfleet know a mere cadet has absolutely trounced you at Klingon K’Vorta: Race to Qu’noS? Does Pike know?”

If she didn’t know him so well she would never have said that, and if she didn’t know him so well she might have missed the way he almost smiled.

“I should be grateful that the subject did not arise,” Spock said. “Perhaps we can also avoid it with your family tonight. I would not want your brother to be reminded.”

“Preserve your dignity? I won’t tell them, though they have their ways of weaseling out information,” she grinned, then stopped, feeling herself flush. “I mean, um, not… How was your interview, speaking of it?” she asked quickly and glanced at him, but he didn’t look up from where he was taking notes on the warbirds on his screen.

“Acceptable.”

She paused in her list of morphemes. 

“Good acceptable or bad acceptable?”

“Acceptable.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It was-“

“Acceptable?” She paused, grinned. “Did you just sigh?”

“No.”

“Right.” She added another morpheme to her list, opened a dictionary of Lower Organian to search through that dialect. “Of course not.”

The lapsed back into silence until her comm beeped and she reached for it to turn the sound off.

“Sorry.”

“Not at all.”

It vibrated half way through the next page she read and she checked the screen to see who was calling, tossed it into her bag where at least it wouldn’t buzz across her desk.

“Sorry,” she said again.

“Do you need to take that?”

“No.”

She searched through the dictionary, highlighting relevant material, trying to ignore her comm flashing at her.

“It’s just my sister,” she finally offered when he glanced at her.

“She has already arrived?”

“I guess so. I told her I wasn’t free until 1730,” she said. “I mean, if we’re even done then.”

She bent over her padd, kept working in the quiet that fell between them. “Do you want me to look at how Organian language changes when they assume different corporeal forms and add it to this?”

She felt him look at her and when she met his gaze, if she didn’t know him so well she wouldn’t have thought he looked surprised.

“You know, with the way they kind of adopt speech patterns? Of their host species?”

He blinked.

“Is that so?”

She shrugged, trying to be nonchalant under his steady gaze, the way he was watching her intently. “I’ve always noticed it. They change their verb choice for a lot of phrases, and they sometimes use more adverbs, depending on the language.”

“I…” he trailed off, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “I do not believe I ever noticed such an occurrence.”

“I can find an example if you want to see for yourself.”

“That would be most illuminating.”

Her comm rang again. She kicked her bag under her desk, sighed.

“Makena’s insistent even through an unanswered communicator.”

“That does not surprise me,” he said evenly. “If her inexorable efforts will not abate, you are welcome to leave to be able to go see her.”

You don’t have to let me leave early, she thought, just because you know how persistent my sister is. It’s going to be horrible and wonderful and exhausting and this is quiet and calm and interesting, she wanted to say. 

“She’s fine,” she said. “But thanks.”

“It is of no consequence.” He went back to typing for a long moment before looking over at her again. “This does not need to be finished before the weekend.”

She looked at her comm, frowned, looked at her padd, looked at him.

“What are the chances you’re trying to avoid being the reason I’m not answering my comm?”

He smiled, just a little, his gaze trained on his work but his mouth curving ever so slightly.

“Substantial.”

“Excellent self-preservation skills.”

“I consider them well honed over the course of our childhood,” he said and she laughed.

“I’ll take my chances with her,” Nyota said, opening Starfleet’s database on conversational Organian. “And don’t tell her, but I’m going to actually enjoy researching this.”

He nodded solemnly. “I will not. Your dedication to your work is commendable.”

“Maybe,” she grinned. “But these are her earrings I’m wearing and I could use a few more hours to come up with an excuse.”

“Or hide the evidence.”

“Precisely.”

She smiled at him and he caught her gaze for a moment, gave her that small, nearly imperceptible smile back before they both resumed their work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to make a choice between updated ages from now with something longer, or updating now with a shorter piece. I apologize if it was too brief!


	12. Chapter 11

“Wait.” Makena leaned closer to Nyota, her voice cutting through the noise of the crowded bar. “James Kirk asked you out the first time you met him?”

“I think he goes by Jim. And not exactly-“

“No, he did, later,“ Gaila corrected, taking a long pull from her own drink and spinning back and forth on her barstool. “When they got back.”

“The son of George Kirk.”

“Yeah, he goes right up to her and all the cadets were there in the Assembly Hall and he says ‘If you don’t want a drink, how about dinner?’ You could hear girls swooning. I thought his doctor friend was going to have to start saving lives.”

“Oooh, a doctor too?”

“Grumpy,” Gaila sighed as if it was a great travesty to the whole population of cadets at the Academy. “I do not do grumpy. But he has a great accent.”

Makena took a drink, frowned at how little was left in her glass, and finished that too. “British?”

“Southern.”

“Ny!”

She felt herself get elbowed from both sides and dropped her face into her hand. 

“You should cheer up the handsome Southern doctor!” Makena signaled for another drink. “I bet he’s dreamy.”

“Or take Kirk up on his offer,” Gaila suggested, draining her own.

“No.” She glared at her sister. The evening was exhausting already. “I’m not cheering up anyone. And you can have him, all yours,” she said to Gaila. “Not interested in the slightest.”

“You should go out with him. Either of them. Or, you know, both,” Makena said, taking her drink and ignoring the bartender who tried to catch her eye and smile at her.

“Nyota doesn’t date.” Gaila tapped her own glass, grinning at the bartender until he blushed, flustered.

“What? Why not?” Makena asked, sipping at her drink. She didn’t wait for an answer, suddenly turning towards the door and smiling. “Spock!”

“It is pleasant to see you again, Makena,” Spock said as he walked towards them, a strangely calm and serene figure amid the chatting and laughing cadets and officers packed in around them.

“Holy shit, is that your uniform?”

If she didn’t know better, he would have looked like nothing at all, completely blank. Instead, he looked baffled, something Nyota thought happened all too frequently when he and Makena interacted, him stoic and confused, her half teasing, half tormenting him.

“I would have thought that would be apparent.”

“Huh.” Makena eyed him. “Wow.”

“Is there something wrong?” Spock asked.

“No. Definitely not. I’m going to give you a hug, so don’t flip a shit.”

“What’s flipping a shit?” Gaila asked loudly. 

“It’s…” Nyota couldn’t help but watch her sister hug Spock, who actually hugged her back. She blinked and turned back to Gaila. “It means…”

“What does flipping a shit mean, sir?” Gaila asked Spock as he stepped away from Makena.

“I am not entirely certain. Good evening, Cadet, Nyota.”

“Hi,” she said quietly, studying the condensation on her mostly full glass of wine, watching it bead and drip slowly down the stem so that she didn’t have to come to terms with the idea of him, Gaila, Makena and herself in a bar, not when her roommate and sister were so intent on torturing her. 

“Howdy, Lieutenant.” Gaila tipped her drink towards him.

“Howdy?” Nyota asked. Spock looked to her for clarification and she shrugged.

“I’m practicing for the new doctor. Southern, right?”

“He’s not a cowboy,” Nyota said.

“What?” Gaila asked.

“He’s a doctor, not a cowboy.”

“Obviously,” Gaila said.

“What?”

“Why did you have to say he’s a doctor? I just said he was a doctor. We were just talking about him being a doctor. It’s obvious he’s a doctor.”

“I was pointing out that he’s not a cowboy he’s-”

“A doctor? You’re really hard to understand sometimes.”

“No, I was clarifying, it’s a colloquialism, it’s really old-”

“Did you just say ‘colloquialism?” Makena interrupted, climbing back onto her barstool. “In a bar? Can you even hear yourself?“

“Oh, don’t you start too,” Nyota muttered into her wine glass, trying and failing to pretend Spock wasn’t there.

Maybe, she thought, she would just get fired before the semester really started, based off of the rave reviews of her depraved roommate and annoying sister. Spock could go find an assistant whose sister didn’t hug him, whose roommate didn’t tease her incessantly, who he didn’t have to see over drinks while waiting the rest of her overly loud, overly boisterous, overly mortifying family to arrive.

“Nyota was referencing that the term you used is an antiquated colloquialism from the southern region of the North American continent, where many residents were once employed herding large bovines,” Spock explained as if that settled the matter, as if they were back in his class, an idea Nyota found much more comforting than the actual reality of the situation. “May I inquire as to which doctor?” 

“That is more than I ever needed to know, Spock. And its James Kirk’s doctor,” Makena answered. “Who, by the way, asked Nyota out.”

Nyota felt Spock look at her and she looked back at her drink. Boundaries, she wanted to say. I’m working for him, she wanted to point out. Please, please don’t, she wanted to groan.

“Kirk, not his doctor,” Gaila corrected, draining half her drink.

She glanced up again to see Spock look like he was focusing with great effort to understand the conversation.

“He has a private doctor?”

“No,” Nyota clarified for him, turning back to study her drink some more. 

“Basically,” Gaila corrected again.

“This is your-“ Spock cut himself off, hesitated for a moment, looking at Nyota. “You are dating him?”

“No.” Her head snapped up, her voice vehement, heated. “Not at all. Never.”

“He wants to,” Makena said.

“I somehow don’t think dating is precisely what he’s interested in,” Nyota said and saw Spock shift slightly.

“Nyota doesn’t date,” Gaila said for the second time and Nyota kicked her leg. “At least not since our first semester,” Gaila continued, smiling sweetly at Spock and Nyota glared at her.

“Nyota Uhura, genius of Starfleet Academy, her one true love a dictionary. ” Makena took a long drink and Nyota sighed, imagining an alternate reality where she was curled up somewhere with a book. Somewhere quiet, without her sister and roommate who liked each other way, way too much, without Spock standing looking as disoriented and puzzled as he always did around Makena. 

“Or an encyclopedia,” Gaila said.

“Thesaurus?”

“We could probably set her up with an atlas.”

“I’d prefer an enchiridion,” Nyota interjected, scowling at them both. “And, also, shut up.”

“What is that?” Makena asked and Nyota didn’t answer, taking a sip of her wine and trying to ignore her sister. “Spock, what’s an enchiridion?” 

“When is your family arriving?” Spock asked, actually ignoring Makena, which Nyota thought was an excellent choice. “Is this engagement not for dinner?” He nodded towards the restaurant in the room behind the bar.

“We got started early. Want a drink?” Makena took another sip of her own. 

“No, thank you.”

“You sure? It’s on me, and by that, I mean it’s on Dad when he gets here,” Makena needled.

“Quite certain, thank you,” Spock said again.

If she didn’t know him so well, she would have missed the tenseness in his tone, the way he shifted away from her sister as Makena and Gaila happily turned back to their own drinks, discussing something else no doubt mortifying and horrible.

“Hey,” Nyota said quietly, trying not to be overheard by Makena and Spock stepped closer to her, coming to stand next to her. “So I was thinking about that phrase I sent you earlier while we were at work and I think I found a better example. It has the third person singular morpheme at the end of the word, and it’s paired with an adjective.”

“From Lower Organian?” he asked as she took of sip of her wine, ignoring Gaila grinning at her.

“I can’t tell if it’s a well educated lower caste speaker, or a younger aristocrat. Let me show you,” she said, setting her glass down and starting to reach for her bag. Before she could grab it, she saw Spock’s gaze flick up to someone behind her and when a heavy arm wrapped around her shoulders, she couldn’t help but jump.

“Easy,” Kamau laughed, squeezing her against him. “You’re twitchy.”

She slid off her barstool and turned to hug him properly, wrapping her arms tight around him. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too.” Kam pulled her close before stepping away. He smacked Spock on the arm, who didn’t react, just looked at him, and hugged Makena, who squeezed him as hard as Nyota had. 

“This is Gaila,” Nyota said as Kamau shook one bright green hand. 

“Are you ok?” Gaila asked. “You don’t seem ok.”

“Um, yes? Nice to meet you.” He stepped back and ran his hand over his hair. “I need to tell you guys something. Are Mom and Dad here? I need a drink. I need like three. Do you need a drink?” he asked Spock.

“No, thank you,” Spock said again, tucking his hands behind his back.

Kamau tried to catch the bartender’s attention and Nyota turned towards Spock, finding him still standing close beside her.

“Where did you find the example?” Spock asked quietly over the sounds of Gaila and Makena laughing and Kamau ordering his drink, the clamor of the other people at the bar. “I would be intrigued if you had found such an indefinite use of dialectal-“

“So how’s work?” Kam interrupted Spock. “Still programming the- oh, wait,” he grinned at Nyota. “Someone’s only a second year.”

“Why does that matter?” Nyota asked as Kam took his beer from the bartender.

“Secrets.” Kam elbowed her, then draped his arm over her shoulders. “Just you wait. How’s the Academy.”

She shrugged. “Fun. Interesting. Hard.”

“Fun?” Kam looked at her closely. “There’s something wrong with you.”

“There is not.” She shoved at his arm and then laughed when he wouldn’t let go of her. “You’re horrible.”

“She has so much fun she and the Lieutenant were just talking about xenolinguistics,” Gaila said, grinning.

Nyota smiled sweetly at her brother. “I was telling him about how in Organian, the verb usage changes-“

“Here we go again. The two of you,” Kam groaned, but he laughed, let go of Nyota and tugged on her ponytail.

“Don’t mess up my hair,” she said, giving him a gentle push. “Stop.”

“Don’t mess up my hair,” Kamau echoed, still laughing. “I missed you.”

“I wish I was an only child,” Nyota muttered. “Go bother Makena.”

“I wish I had been at the Academy with you,” Kam said. “I would have had so much fun.”

Nyota leaned her elbow on the bar, laughed as she pressed her face to her palm. “The horror.”

“Spock, I hope you bug her plenty,” Kamau said. “Someone has to.”

“I do,” Gaila said, spinning in a circle on her barstool. 

“This type of torture goes against Federation law,” Nyota said into her hand.

“Technically-” Spock started and she sat back up and glared at him.

“Not you too.”

“I was going to point out that technically, the differences in class in Organian culture prevents overlap between the dialects, leading to-“

“No,” Kamau said sharply. “Traitor. I need you on my side. Where’s Gabe, I need Gabe. Did he not come?”

“He’s picking up Mom and Dad, so that I can spend more time with our dear sister,” Makena said.

“Thanks,” Nyota said. “And it is so, so much fun. Remind me to thank him profusely.”

“How do you talk him into this stuff?” Kam asked Makena. He groaned when she just grinned. “Gross. Stop. Please.”

“What?” Gaila asked. “Oh, is this the thing with brothers and sisters and sexual partners? Nyota said that as a society humans should have moved past that, but let me tell you, I’m not so sure because this one time-“

“We should have,” Nyota interrupted before Gaila could launch into her story.

“Yeah,” Gaila said, smiling slowly. “Brothers, sisters, that could really get awk- “

“It’s the 2250s.” Nyota said quickly. “We should be done with those kind of gender issues.”

“What a shock when I got here,” Gaila continued. “All these rules, all these people who you can have sex with, you can’t have sex with, you can but you shouldn’t, you want to but you can’t, you think it’s a good idea at the time, and then later-“

“Gaila…”

“I mean, you could just tango into-“

“-Waltz into-“

“A really, really awkward situation that you never even considered…” Gaila trailed off, smiling. “Good thing you made me that list, Ny. Otherwise I might have really done something that had long lasting repercussions.”

“Always the interspecies interpreter,” Kam said. “Mom and Dad thought she’d be great in the Diplomatic Corps.”

“Well, she does know so much about interspecies relations. Really aced that course, right Lieutenant?”

Spock was standing much farther from her than he had been a minute ago.

“You taught Interspecies Ethics, Spock? I hated that course,” Kamau said.

“Nyota loved it,” Gaila said.

“It was so hard. Spock, it must have been brutal with you.”

“You should have seen him torture this Andorian,” Gaila said. “I thought his antenna were going to fall off.”

“That is not only physically impossible, but I can assure you that I did not ‘torture’ him. That sounds not only violent, but unnecessary.”

“Literally tortured him.” Gaila gasped, clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, Ny. Figuratively tortured, not literally.” She leaned closer to Kam and lowered her voice. “I’m not allowed to use the word ‘literally’ for emphasis if it didn’t actually happen that way. She gets so upset.”

“She does,” Kam agreed in a loud whisper and Nyota dropped her forehead to her palm again. “It literally kills her.”

“I wish you two had never met,” Nyota sighed. “Everyone here is having way too much fun.”

“Cahoots,” Gaila grinned. “I know all about cahoots. That’s what we’re in.”

“You certainly are,” Nyota agreed and sighed again.

“Literally,” Kam said, nodding seriously.

“Nyota has a salient point about the misuse of that word,” Spock said and Gaila pointed at him, shook her head.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. You can choose Nyota or coming to cahoots.”

“Being in,” Nyota corrected.

“I thought it was a place,” Gaila said, sounding disappointed. “Like a clubhouse.”

Spock looked at Nyota. “I, too, am not clear as to-“

“Gabe!” 

Spock cut himself off and looked up, obviously startled by the noise Makena made when she saw her fiancée. Gabe walked in, closely followed by Nyota’s parents.

“Mom, I missed you-”

“Kamau, dear, look at you-”

“You must be Gaila-“

“Gabe! Hey man-“

“Nyota, sweetheart-“

“Spock, so good to see you-“

“Dad, hi-“

“This is fantastic,” Gaila whispered to her over the clamor of her family hugging and greeting each other. Her eyes were shining. “Thank you.”

“You are having too much fun,” Nyota accused over the noise. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“Literally, a heart attack?”

Nyota glared, crossed her arms.

Gaila grinned and hugged her. “I am having exactly the right amount of fun. Don’t worry.”

“I’m worried.”

“Literally worried?”

“Stop.”

“You literally love me.”

“You are the worst.”

Gaila grinned again, nodded. “Literally.”

…

Dinner was barely calmer, a cacophony of Standard, Swahili, and Vulcan. 

It was strange to see her family there in San Francisco, a city she associated with cadet reds, with libraries, papers, classes, and tests, not with Spock on one side of her as her parents asked him how he was enjoying teaching and how his parents were, or with Gaila on the other side as Kamau asked her what she was studying 

“Computer science,” Gaila said. “Engineering. Not any of this communications or command stuff. That is just boring.”

“Thanks,” Nyota said as Kamau enthusiastically agreed. He and Gaila launched into a long discussion about the newest designs of warp engines as her mother and Makena talked about the wedding, and as Spock and her father discussed the Auxiliary Electromagnetic Interference Accelerator that was being tested on the Farragut. 

Her family, predictably, loved Gaila, who recounted strangest parts of Earth, which mostly involved the presence of domesticated cats – ‘they’re like wild animals that people allow in their homes!’ – and the different ecosystems so close together – ‘it’s sunny in Marin and inhospitable when you get back in the city!’

“I quite agree,” Spock said, cutting a neat cube of potato. “I believe there were once plans for the Academy to be constructed on the northern side of the bay, but they were rejected in favor of positioning it near Headquarters.”

“Should have asked my opinion,” Gaila said, taking a bite of her cake. 

“You think that about everything,” Nyota pointed out.

“And it always would have worked out better if people had.”

“I know that feeling,” Makena grinned. “Hey, Spock, have you shown Ny the- where was it? Kam, you took me there when I visited you.”

“The sea lions?” Kam asked, turning to Spock who was taking another bite of potato. “Yeah, did you show her?”

Nyota carefully didn’t look at Spock. “We, um, haven’t-“

“Nyota and I went there,” Gaila interrupted. “Right before finals started. Super cute. Also, they looked super delicious.”

“Very few humans consider sea lions a suitable food source,” Spock said.

“Really?” Gaila took a huge bite of cake. “That’s too bad.”

“Spock, did you tell Nyota about that restaurant we found? Or take her there? That Andorian place?” Kam asked, taking a bite of his steak.

“Nyota’s always in the library,” Gaila said. “Except when she’s in Iowa.”

Kam’s fork clicked against his plate as he quickly set it down.

“Were you at Riverside? Did you see the Enterprise?”

“It’s fantastic,” Nyota grinned. “Absolutely amazing.”

Kam asked a half dozen more questions about it while Makena groaned, most of which Nyota couldn’t answer and she waited for Spock to cut in, kept looking at him for clarification, but he silently focused on eating his carrots. She thought he would have told Kam about the ship already, about being on board, about being there with Captain Pike. She thought he would have at least mentioned such a huge distinction as being considered for Chief Science Officer, then realized that she hadn’t actually heard anyone else talk about it, not in the xenolinguistics department, not even Eneis, who she knew Spock at least got along with, even if they weren’t overly friendly. 

“Nyota?” Kamau asked and she realized he’d asked her another question.

“She gets all distracted when she thinks about some things,” Gaila said, taking another bite of cake. “Like, you know, the Enterprise. Happens all the time.”

“Sorry, what did you want to know?” she asked Kamau, blindly reaching for the salt, not noticing that Spock was reaching for it at the same time. Her fingers nearly brushed against his, close enough she could feel the heat from his hand.

“Sorry,” she said again, embarrassed, pulling her hand back quickly, tucking it into her lap, ignoring Gaila looking at her.

“I apologize. Please.” He gestured to the salt.

“I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Go ahead.”

“What is wrong with you two?” Makena asked, passing another saltshaker from near her and Gabe. “And can we talk about something other than the Enterprise?”

“What brings you back to the system, Kam?” M'Umbha asked, setting her knife and fork to the side so that the waiter could take her plate. “We haven’t heard from you in so long.”

“Break the ship?” Makena asked.

“I did not break the ship, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You would,” Makena shrugged.

“Please don’t swear,” their father sighed, leaning back from his own dinner. 

“I have some news to tell you all,” Kamau started, then hesitated, carefully setting down his beer.

“The Lieutenant and Nyota have something to tell you all first, which they totally should have told you already,” Gaila interjected.

“What? There isn’t anything…” Nyota said before she could process how Spock went perfectly still next to her, his fork poised above his plate, before she too froze. No, she thought, feeling the blood drain from her face and then rush back to it. Please, please, no. “Gaila-“

“It’s a good distraction. He’s nervous.” Gaila turned to Kamau. “You’re nervous,” she told him and he blinked at her.

Nyota swallowed again, her mouth suddenly dry, trying to not look at her sister who seemed bored, her parents who looked curious, Spock, who would have looked expressionless if he didn’t look like he was either blushing or nauseous. “Gaila?”

Gaila smiled at her. Nyota felt her heart race.

Spock carefully set his fork down and Nyota glanced at him and turned away immediately when he looked at her. 

“Cadet, I believe I am not certain as to what-“

“Oh, you’re totally certain, sir.” Gaila flashed him a grin and Nyota felt her stomach drop. “You two are working together this semester.”

“Oh.” Nyota exhaled. Her palms were sweating. “That.”

“It is a departmental assignment,” Spock quickly added and she nodded in agreement, but no one was listening.

“Wonderful!” her father said, clapping his hands together. “That will be so much fun for you two.”

“As a second year!” Her mother leaned across the table, squeezed her hand. “We’re so proud of you.”

“In other big news, Nyota is too good for George Kirk’s son,” Makena added and Nyota watched Gabe take her hand beneath the table.

“That is big news,” Kamau said, laughing shakily into his beer. “Also, I’m going to be a father. Very soon.”

Nyota translated his words into Swahili, then back into Standard, then into Vulcan because it was such a precise language, before deciding she had heard correctly, then deciding it was the only time she could remember her entire family being silent at once.

She looked at her parents, who looked stunned, her brother, who looked like he wanted to crawl under the table, Spock, who looked as impassive as ever, and Gaila, who was blatantly staring around, curious.

“Is that what it’s like to hear a pin drop?” Gaila finally whispered.

“An accurate application of that Terran idiom,” Spock answered because Nyota’s mouth wasn’t working yet. 

“It seems quite different than flipping a shit, sir.” Gaila finished her cake and scraped the last of it off the bottom of her plate with her spoon. “Oh, sorry, I’m not supposed to say that word here.”

“I believe that your understanding is accurate, Cadet, though I presume both phrases are rooted in exaggerated expressions of surprise. The difference is in how the reaction to that surprise is executed through action, not the impetus of the emotion that causes it.”

“Fascinating,” Gaila said.

“Quite.”

“Why doesn’t someone just point out how awkward this is?” 

“Humans often do not point out such facts, no matter how obvious, in the course of a conversation,” Spock said.

“Really? I think I skipped that chapter of reading for your class.”

“The fact that you disregarded many chapters of reading was quite apparent, Cadet.”

Gaila licked her spoon and shrugged. “You were obviously right to be nervous, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Um, thanks.”

“Congratulations,” Gabe said, reaching around Makena to clap Kam on the shoulder. “That’s great, man.”

“Thanks,” Kamau said again.

“That’s wonderful,” Nyota was finally able to say, the haze of everything that had already happened that night, and now this, slowly clearing from her thoughts. She reached out to grab her brother’s hand. “Pongezi.”

“He doesn’t want congratulations,” Gaila said. “He wants your parents to say something.”

“Sweetie,” Nyota’s mother started, then stopped, running her thumb under her eye to catch a tear. “Really?”

Her father carefully folded his hands on the table. “Who exactly are you having this baby with?”

Kamau dropped his gaze to the table and couldn’t seem to look up. “Let’s discuss this later,” he muttered to his water glass.

“Let’s discuss this now,” their father corrected, standing and handing his credit chip to his wife. She passed it to Makena, standing as well. 

“Spock, it was so nice to see you again. Gaila, wonderful to meet you,” their mother said, ever the diplomat, giving them all as wide a smile as she seemed able to muster, following her son and husband out.

It was silent for a long moment in the wake of their departure.

“Who-?” Gabe started, stopped. “When-“

“I can’t believe that I wasn’t the one to accidentally get pregnant,” Makena sighed, draining her drink. “Who would have thought?”

“That’s horrible, Makena,” Nyota snapped. She paused, turned to Spock. “You knew?”

He paused, nodded. “He asked that I not-“

“You’re pretty good at family secrets,” Gaila said happily, dragging her finger through a smear of frosting on her plate and popping it in her mouth. “Guess you have lots of practice, though. All sorts of things nobody wants to you talk about.”

Nyota just sighed, vowing to never let Gaila, Spock, and her family ever interact again.

“I didn’t even know he was seeing someone,” Gabe said.

“I’m pretty sure if he was still seeing her, she would have been here tonight,” Makena said, sounding stunned. 

“Who-?” Nyota started, echoing Gabe’s earlier question, her mind racing. “Oh. Oh my god. I think I met her.” She turned to Spock again. “Do you know her?”

“No.”

“Anna? Anne? Annette.” Nyota said, suddenly remembering. “I met her, oh, ages ago.”

“Annette,” Gaila said, pulling out her padd. “Let’s look her up.”

Spock looked at her, raised an eyebrow. “I am not entirely certain as to-“

“You’re, realistically, not going to want to see this, sir,” Gaila said, turning her padd on and entering commands at a rapid pace.

“Impressive,” Spock said, studying the padd in Gaila’s hands, leaning past Nyota to read the lines of code scrolling across the screen and she pushed her chair back, aware of how their shoulders were suddenly much closer together. 

Gaila looked up and grinned at them. “Yeah, I know.”

“And illegal, as your ability to access this data violates several of the Federation’s privacy laws.”

“Shouldn’t I always want to know who I’m having sex with?”

“While that reasoning may be sound, it does not preclude-“

“Isn’t it always logical to avoid having sex with an inappropriate partner?”

“I do not disagree but I cannot-”

“So, therefore, logically, anyone you’ve ever had-“

“While your mastery of the Socratic dialogue is nearly as impressive as your ability to gain access to Starfleet’s database-“

“Your avoidance of the subject at hand suggests you are defensive-“

“I am simply saying that in compliance with Starfleet regulation-“

“Right, but if you don’t disagree with what I said, we can only assume that-“

“That is not what I am attempting to explicate.”

“It’s what I’m expli- whatever, talking about.”

“You are changing the subject.”

“I’m talking about logic. It’s your favorite. And, to my earlier point, logically-“

“Enough with the logic. And regulations. And certainly Socrates. And whatever you two are talking about. Who’s Annette?” Makena interrupted, leaning across the table and Nyota thought about hugging her, thought about her need for another drink, thought about forcibly removing Gaila from the restaurant. Literally.

“She’s a pilot,” Nyota said quickly. “And I think a Lieutenant. Not that you can even tell with female uniforms.”

“Unfortunately, that is the case,” Spock said, looking at the padd in Gaila’s hands. “May I ask how you coded this program?”

“Nope. Though Nyota’s really into learning about computer programming. Won’t shut up about it, actually, and spent most of last term pestering me about it.”

“I did not. And give me that.” Nyota grabbed the padd from Gaila. “Annette Leath. Lieutenant. Recently transferred from the Eisenhower to a position as a training instructor at Starfleet Academy.”

“Pregnant,” Makena added. “Look up Kam.”

“Also transferred. Research position at HQ.”

“At least he’s not a total deadbeat,” Makena said. 

“Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of him,” Nyota said. “I wonder if Dad’s chewing him out right now.”

“It’s the first thing Kam ever did that wasn’t perfect,” Makena said. “You’re next, Nyota.”

“Oh, please just don’t even start.”

“It’s like you getting a B.” 

Nyota rubbed her forehead. The whole evening had been exhausting, too confusing and overwhelming, her pulse racing and head spinning for too much of it. 

“Come on, Makena, enough.”

“A minus?”

“Please.”

“Nyota’s dedication to her studies is not only formidable, but your postulation, furthermore, assumes that the worth of her value to Starfleet can be encompassed by a nonspecific score with no attention to any skills outside of coursework,” Spock said and she caught his eye, smiled at him, felt slightly calmer.

“Thanks,” she whispered and he nodded, even as Makena sighed.

“I’m not sure that was Standard, Spock,” Makena said. 

He frowned. “I am certain that it was.”

“Whatever. And seriously, damn, new baby.”

“You’re not supposed to swear in public. Or maybe just in a restaurant. Or maybe just this restaurant? Also, you and Nyota argue a lot for people who love each other so much. You should try to get along better,” Gaila said, pushing her empty plate away. Nyota looked up to find her watching her, a small smile on her face when she glanced between her and Spock. “And let’s talk about what’s going on here. Are we going out for more drinks or should I get dessert?”


	13. Chapter 12

When her alarm went of at 0630 and she woke with a blistering headache, a bouncy roommate, and a bone deep exhaustion, the type that always followed a weekend with her sister, Nyota assumed that the day couldn’t, realistically, get much worse.

She brushed her teeth, wincing at the bright light above the sink in her and Gaila’s bathroom, trying to rinse out the taste of drinks at the last bar they had gone to – which had been a horrible idea, because she had class, because it was the start of the semester, because she had work for Spock all afternoon, and because anything Makena thought was a good idea after that much tequila never was.

“Great to see you’re doing fine,” she groaned as Gaila flitted around the room, discarding underwear choices in her wake.

“Your sister is fun. Too bad she had to go back to Africa.”

“Stop,” Nyota pleaded, sinking back onto her bunk. “Please.”

“Too bad you used all our hypos yesterday,” Gaila continued, chipper and perky. “Not that you didn’t need them after Saturday night. When do you think your sister’s going to visit again?”

“Never,” Nyota moaned. “Never, ever again.”

“I bet you are so excited for today. How many classes do you have? I bet you have a ton, your schedule is always so packed.”

Nyota rubbed her forehead, swallowed carefully before she spoke. “Class. Oh God, no.”

“I mean, you have been looking forward to this all summer!”

“I might die.”

“It’s like your favorite day of the year.”

“Today sucks.”

“And I’m so proud of you for going out last night! That was fun. I had so much fun. Want to go to breakfast early? I bet you do. That way you can be right on time for your 0800-”

“I’m never going to eat again.”

“What’s your first class?”

“I’m not going to class,” Nyota said, laid back down and pulled the pillow over her head.

“I’ll get you something,” Gaila offered, sounding concerned. “I don’t think you’re ok.”

“Really. Thanks for noticing. That’s great.”

Gaila bounced out into the hall in her underwear, greeting their hallmates loudly as she went, and Nyota finally, gratefully, heard her footsteps and voice recede into a dim clamor. She must have dozed off, or maybe just slid into a state of semi-consciousness that kept her stomach from rolling too badly because all too soon Gaila came crashing back into their room with a shout.

“Guess who lives in our dorm? You’ll never guess.”

“I might throw up on you,” Nyota groaned.

“Exactly! The Doctor!” Gaila pressed a hypospray into Nyota’s neck and she immediately, wonderfully, felt her head clear, felt her stomach settle, felt her thoughts solidify to the point that she was able to focus on what Gaila had said.

“Oh no.”

“Yes! It’s great, because he has a ton of stuff for hangovers! Because-“

“Oh, please, please no.”

“He goes out all the time-“

“Just don’t-“

“Which you know because we totally saw him on Saturday with-“

“Please-“

“Well, whatever, I’m already like super good friends with them, which is great-“

“Gaila-“

“So you never have to go through this again, since you look terrible-“

“Thanks-“

“So we can do this every weekend-“

“No-“

“And it’s going to be even more fun than that because-“

“Just stop, I can’t-“

“Guess who his roommate is?”

Nyota screwed her eyes shut.

“Jim Kirk! They live right down there! And we’re going to be best friends with them!”

Nyota felt the throbbing behind her eyes resume once more and she wondered how much longer until this day was finally over.

…

“So,” Nyota said over the clamor of the mess hall, cadets greeting each other over breakfast, groaning about classes, officers carrying padds and talking with each other, a swirl of noise, of red, blue, and gold uniforms.

“So,” Kam agreed.

“Mom and Dad-“

“Don’t even.”

“You-“

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to-“

“I don’t know.”

“Do you need-“

“Maybe.”

“Are you-“

“I’m fine.” Kam pushed his half eaten oatmeal away, rubbing at his forehead, looking up at Nyota as Gaila stared back and forth between them, her mouth slightly open. “I’ll see you later. Have a good class.”

“Yeah,” Nyota said, “I’m glad… I’m glad you’re here, at least.”

“Thanks,” Kam said and she grabbed his hand, squeezed it, could barely walk away from her brother’s slumped shoulders, the slightly panicked and haunted look she’s seen in his eyes all weekend. “You’ll come over tonight?”

“Of course,” Nyota said, mentally adding it to one more thing she had to do that day.

“Thanks for the chat,” Kam said as she squeezed his hand once more and stepped away.

“How was that even a conversation?” Gaila asked as she shouldered her bag. “Neither of you said anything.”

…

“You,” Nyota sighed, finding Gaila in Spock’s office when she finally got there, after a lunch that was somehow already filled with homework, a handful of classes, a mad dash to the gym that left her exhausted. She still had another class, hours of work for Spock, and a brother who was about to be a father, who wanted her to meet his pregnant ex-girlfriend he was in the middle of moving in with. “What are you here for? Do you just follow me around all day?”

“I’m here for the Lieutenant, you genius. I can see you any old time.”

“He’s not here.”

Gaila grinned at her from where she was relaxing in the chair in front of his desk. “Obviously.”

“I swear-“

“You’re not supposed to swear in public. See how much I learned from your family? What a wonderful weekend.”

“You and Makena are never, ever allowed to meet again.”

“You’re just upset that after all those shots-“

“Oh, please don’t remind me-“

“She told me all about when you were twelve-“

“Not this, not again-“

“I mean, really, Nyota, I never-“

“I’m working. Work. For Spock. Really important.”

Gaila shrugged, still grinning. “I’m sure.”

“It is,” Nyota muttered, dropping her bag next to her desk and sinking into her chair, trying not to think about the hours of material she had for him, interrupted by yet another class that afternoon.

“I won’t bother you,” Gaila said. “I am completely capable of sitting here and not bothering you.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Maybe you can use all of your practice from today to also not bother me while we’re in our room.”

“Just watch and see.”

Nyota enjoyed the silence for maybe thirty seconds.

“So you guys just sit here and work?”

“Sometimes I sit here and my obnoxious roommate comes in and distracts me.”

Gaila nodded, looking thoughtful. “That must be hard.”

“It is.”

“You should tell her not to do that.”

“I do. She doesn’t listen.”

“I don’t blame her. She’s probably bored.”

Nyota sighed. “I’m working.”

Gaila twirled a red curl around her finger. “She sounds kind of awesome.”

Nyota shrugged. “She’s alright.”

“Amazing.”

“Satisfactory.”

“Stunning.”

“Fine.”

“Marvelous.”

“So-so.”

“I bet you just love her the most.”

“I really love this thing she does where she sits quietly while I’m working.”

“She doesn’t like that so much.”

“I’m sure she has homework she could be doing.”

“Well, she’s not you.”

“You don’t say.”

“Why do you always say that when I’ve just said something?”

“I just… never mind.”

There was a blessed couple of minutes of silence, Nyota calling up her work on her padd, opening Spock’s syllabus and the copy of his lecture slides he had sent her.

“So you sit then and the Lieutenant sits over there and you guys just work.”

Nyota didn’t look up. “Basically.”

“For, like, hours.”

“Yes.”

“Just the two of you.”

“And now you.”

Gaila grinned. “And now me.”

Nyota got halfway through the slides before Gaila spoke again.

“Do you guys talk?”

“Sometimes.”

“About?”

Nyota shrugged. “Not much.”

Gaila looked around Spock’s office, twirling her hair once again. “Do you like working for him?”

“I guess. It’s only been a couple days.”

“Is it hard?”

“Is this the Spanish Inquisition? Sometimes, yes. Mostly when I can’t actually work due to aforementioned distractions.”

“Is it weird? Working with him?”

Nyota frowned at her roommate. “Actually, no, not really.”

Gaila nodded. “Good.”

Nyota pinned her with a glare. “Dinner was weird. And kind of horrible.”

Gaila grinned. “I had a blast.”

“I know,” Nyota sighed. “I’m glad you did.”

“Thanks! And I’m glad it’s not weird here with the-“ Gaila grinned at the door as it opened, as Spock walked through with a stack of padds. “Lieutenant! Hey!”

“Thank you for coming,” Spock said, handing half the padds to Nyota and she took them, looking back and forth between him and Gaila. “I wish to talk to you about-“

“If this is about me having sex, I’m happy to tell you all about it, sir, in as much detail as you want, and trust me I have some good details that Nyota knows all about, but I want to keep my ability to look up potential partners because I really, really, want to know who I’m going to be doing. Banging. Screwing. Nyota taught me a bunch of words, too. They’re all so great.”

Nyota sighed again. “Now it’s weird.”

…

Nyota left halfway through Gaila and Spock’s debate on the merits of the Federation’s privacy laws for her Subspace Physics class, dragging herself to the classroom and studying the syllabus with a sinking feeling.

She wished for her bed from that morning, the weekend full of meals with her parents, no matter how thrown they had been in the wake of Kamau’s news, full of hours with her sister, no matter how tiring it was, full of time spent with Gaila and Makena that was such a stark difference from the brightly lit lecture hall and incomprehensible equations. 

She couldn’t really stay focused, couldn’t help but think back to her brother that morning, to Makena’s report from the day before that Gabe had taken Kam out for a very quiet, very stoic drink during which Kam had apparently said little, shrugged a lot, and admitted he was abjectly terrified, if not only of fatherhood, then the memory of having to tell their parents about it, no matter how old he was.

She copied down the lecture material out of old habit, barely listening, thinking about Spock and Gaila in his office, her roommate gesturing frantically, Spock sitting calmly at his desk, unwilling to capitulate (his word) to her completely reasonable expectation for information (her words). She thought about their voices rising, the way Spock listened closely to Gaila’s reasoning, the way her roommate was obviously surprised at being taken seriously, the way their debate waged on and on until Nyota had had to leave, the sound of their words following her down the hall.

She thought about Gaila at dinner with her family, Makena’s obvious joy at her roommate’s presence, how much her parents had liked her, how Kam, at the end of the weekend had shrugged and called her ‘pretty cool’. Instead of subspace equations, she thought about how wonderful it had been to have everyone there, Gaila and her family and Gabe and even Spock, quiet and reserved amid the boisterous exuberance of jokes and memories and all of them catching up with each other. 

She tried to focus on how it had been nice to have been there with him instead of thinking about how mortifying it was most of the time with Makena and Gaila’s insistent teasing, Gaila repeatedly bringing up- Nyota shook her head and focused on Grant’s Theory of Intersecting Subspace Fields, trying to keep up with the pace of the lecture even when she couldn’t quite remember the definitions of different plasma streams.

…

When she got back, there was unmistakable relief on both of their faces, Gaila throwing her hands up and saying “Finally!” and Spock leaning back in his chair as if he could relax from under the sole brunt of Gaila’s arguments.

“Nyota, don’t you think that, since I logically can’t not have sex and won’t repeat partners too often because I’m basically allergic to monogamy and these idiots keep getting ideas about tying me down – not literally, that would be fine – that as an Orion- a trustworthy Orion, I might add, since we established that like three hours ago- I get a biological waiver to this whole thing about privacy so that I don’t screw up and screw the wrong person? I don’t even believe in privacy. Don’t like it at all.”

“That is, um, that is true,” Nyota said, thinking back on a few choice incidents.

“Other citizens of the Federation believe in privacy. Value it highly, even.”

“Well, we’re not all Vulcans, Lieutenant.”

“And I would not induce you to adopt such stringent-“

“Exactly! I want to be me, and you can be you, and Nyota can be human which is, lucky for her, normal around here.” Gaila crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “If I give you that padd, I’m just going to write the same program. And if you take the logical course of action of recommending that Federation computing security shore up their admittedly crappy firewalls, I’m just going to do it again. And then you’re going to do it again and I’m going to do it again and, logically, we’re both just going to waste a bunch of time.”

“I agree that that would not be a tenable solution. Also, I commend your impeccable use of logic, Cadet.”

“Thanks, sir, but logic totally sucks sometimes.”

Spock looked like he didn’t quite know what to say to that, frowning slightly and studying Gaila, who sank even further into her chair with a defeated sigh.

“I don’t know what to do and I want to know because I can’t possibly understand all the people I’m allowed to have sex with and those I’m not allowed to. It’s too confusing around here. There are very, very complicated rules on this planet! Risa? Easy, no rules. Delta IV? Everyone already knows if you want to have sex. Same with Betazed. Andor? You just ask. You literally just ask. Vulcan? You don’t even bother, no offense. Earth? You go out to dinner, but sometimes that’s just for friends, or you go dancing, but you can do that with friends too, and sometimes you have friends you have sex with and everyone gets along or sometimes someone gets feelings, which sounds horrible, by the way, and there are other friends that you don’t have sex with, and then some that you don’t for a long time and then you do, or some that you do and then you end up friends later, or you do and you never end up friends, and that’s really sad. Some people say they’re single and they’re not, and some people are in relationships where it’s ok, and some people like it if you just tell them what you want and some people say that’s harassment. Sometimes you get a drink, then maybe you get another one, but maybe that was too many, or for some people not quite enough – which, by the way, is not cool, if they need that many - or maybe you just go back to their place immediately upon meeting someone – or like ages later-, or your place, if your roommate has, you know, midterms, or work. Actually, Lieutenant, this could be really helpful if you would keep Nyota busy with-”

“Part of attending Starfleet Academy is-“

“I know!” Gaila took a deep breath. “I know, sir, I mean. It’s just exhausting, sometimes.”

Spock folded his hands on his desk and nodded. “I agree, Cadet.”

“Nyota made me a list,” Gaila said miserably. “It’s pretty helpful but I still feel like I’m always going to mess up at some point. And humans take that really, really seriously. And I can’t not have sex.”

“I understand,” Spock said again.

“I want to go home and see my own family,” Gaila whispered and dragged her hand under her nose, sniffing and wiping away a tear. “But I can’t, because I’m here.”

Spock nodded and the room fell silent for a long moment. 

“I appreciate that since you cannot return to your home planet due to your decision to join Starfleet, you remain in an unsustainable and untenable situation here. While I will continue to contemplate other adequate solutions to your situation, perhaps one logical choice would be to find a partner with whom you can satisfy your various biological urges whilst maintaining a non-monogamous relationship,” Spock said evenly and Nyota thought fondly back to the days that didn’t include him talking blandly about her roommate’s sex life and giving her advice. Really good advice, Nyota was forced to admit, advice to which Gaila was nodding thoughtfully.

“Where am I going to find that?” Gaila asked, frowning and then sitting up straight, her entire face lighting up. “Oh! I know!”

“No,” Nyota said immediately, going cold. 

“Yes!”

“You don’t even know that he’d-“

“But I do! I mean, I’ll ask, obviously, but this is going to be perfect!”

“This is going to be horrible,” Nyota corrected.

“I’m going to go back to the dorm and find him. Want to come? Do you still have work?”

“I have a lot of work,” Nyota confirmed, shaking her head at her roommate and wondering when this day would be over. “Just before you do anything, think about-“

“I’m thinking about how great this is going to be! Thank you, Lieutenant. I mean, Nyota’s going to kill you, but she never gets that mad, even that one time when I-“

“Bye,” Nyota said. “See you later.”

“This is a perfect solution. And now he won’t want to sleep with you! This works out for everyone, even the Lieutenant, who doesn’t have to turn green every time we bring up his name! Not that green isn’t the best color ever. You should try it out, Ny.”

“Thanks,” Nyota sighed, carefully not looking at Spock, who was sitting silently, his brows drawn close together, looking like he was desperately thinking of somewhere else he needed to be.

“This is great, thanks again Lieutenant, and Nyota, you’ll be so happy! Because you’re always on me about choosing sexual partners that it won’t be difficult with later and about not messing up friendships. Which is ironic. That’s ironic, right? That’s what irony means?”

Nyota covered her face with her hand, nodded.

“Come on,” Gaila said. “This whole thing is kind of funny.”

She didn’t look up, but thought Spock sounded like he was sitting awfully still.

“The two of you,” Gaila muttered as she left.

It was a very silent afternoon.

…

“It’s nice to see you again,” Nyota said as she shook Annette’s hand.

“Likewise,” she said, as if they weren’t standing there talking over the bulge of Annette’s stomach, Kamau hovering in the background. “How’s the Academy?”

Nyota told her, talking quickly about her classes to fill the silence, her research over the summer, trying not to ask questions of her own, trying not the bring up the Eisenshower, which made both Annette and Kamau look a little sad, a little forlorn at the thought of what they had left behind. She tried not to bring up their new place, which was hard, but made both of them glace around, bewildered, like they couldn’t quite figure out how they ended up there, and tried not to bring up what either of them were doing for work, which made both of them just seem lost, like they had left behind something bigger and better.

Nyota quickly ran out of topics, so she and Kamau talked about the weekend, which didn’t really work because Annette had quite obviously not met her family, a topic Nyota studiously steered clear of. When they lapsed into an awkward silence and Kamau brought up Makena’s wedding, Nyota looked at him with a tacit understanding that they were both grasping at straws, discussing a topic neither of them could care less about.

The relief of a chime at the door was palpable, a frisson of energy that ran through all three of them as Kam half ran to answer it.

“Spock!” Kam said, grabbing his arm and clapping him on the shoulder. “You came! How was work? How was your first class? Look, Ny’s here. Aren’t you two working together? Come tell us about it.”

“Good evening,” Spock said, a force of stoicism and calm that Nyota thought all three humans were thrilled to cling to.

“Hey,” Nyota said, as if she hadn’t just left him in his office only an hour or two before, him barely looking up from his padd when she had left in time to grab a quick dinner and a giant cup of coffee to get through the rest of her day. 

“Isn’t that great? We’re neighbors. Did you know Spock lives in this building too? Remember when we were in the same dorm my last year at the Academy? That was fun. This is Annette, by the way, and this is Spock.”

“Hello,” Spock said, as if meeting his friend’s knocked up ex – or maybe not ex, Nyota wasn’t sure and wasn’t asking – was just something that happened to him on a regular basis. 

“Hi,” Annette said. “You all… you all know each other.”

“Our parents are friends,” Kamau said quickly. “And Spock and I were at the Academy together, and Nyota works for Spock, and was in his class last semester and, um-“

Kam waved vaguely back and forth between himself and Nyota, as if he was about to explain that they were brother and sister and Nyota stepped forward, put her hand on his arm. 

“We all know each other,” she confirmed as Kamau nodded.

Spock was Spock, which meant that when it came to things like this – maybe not everything, Nyota thought, but definitely this – he was blessedly not awkward and completely able to engage Annette in a very long, very detailed conversation about Starfleet’s newest flight simulators, a conversation Kamau and Nyota were quickly unable to keep up with.

“Nice place,” she finally said to her brother, looking around at his admittedly large apartment, the full kitchen, excellent view, what must be two bedrooms down a short hallway. “Who’d have thought.”

“Rank has its privileges. Not like Cadet digs,” he said, sounding like he was trying to be cheerful. “Also not like on a ship. Everything’s tiny up there.”

“Well, at least you have space here,” she said and he nodded and then grimaced. “I mean, you know, plenty of room,” she amended and he dropped his head to his hands. She rubbed her hand over his back. “It’ll be ok, Kam.”

He nodded, not looking up and she glanced over at Annette, who was thankfully still engaged with Spock, her hands motioning through what must be a flight pattern as he nodded judiciously, adding a comment that Nyota couldn’t even understand but Annette seemed to agree with.

“I hope so,” Kam whispered. “I think Dad wanted to kill me. Mom kept crying and shit.”

“They’ll be fine,” Nyota said. “And it doesn’t seem like Annette’s father came after you with a phaser rifle.”

“She doesn’t have parents,” Kamau said. “There’s literally no one, and Dad-“

His voice broke and Nyota kept rubbing his back, trying not to think about her big brother who was normally so strong, so full of life and gregarious, laughing and playing, and now bent over looking defeated. 

“Dad’s fine. He loves you, you know that. He’s going to take one look at your kid and just melt.”

“He’s not,” Kam said, his voice shaky. “He said-“

“He’s scared for you, and he knows… he wants what’s best and this maybe wasn’t your plan and he loves you and you know Mom is yelling at him right now to get his shit together and get over himself,” Nyota said firmly.

Kam grimaced, tried to smile. “Maybe. Hopefully.”

“He stands no chance with her. You know that, I know that, Makena knows that. And if Mom can’t do it, Makena will and you and I know that she’s terrifying. I wouldn’t worry.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confessed, his voice low.

“I’ll help,” she offered, though not knowing how or what with. “And Spock’s here. You’re not all alone.”

Kam reached out for her, hugged her tight. “Thanks,” he whispered, squeezed her as he used to, tight enough that she couldn’t breath until she rolled her eyes and hit at his shoulders until he let her go.

“Can you imagine Spock with a baby?”

“No,” she grinned. “I kind of can’t wait.”

“I can.” Kam scrubbed his hands over his face as he sighed.

“How, um, how long?” she asked and he shrugged.

“Not very.”

She looked over at Annette, at the giant swell of her stomach, at her hand fluttering down every so often, at Spock who was talking calmly, evenly, probably the best friend Kam could have come up with for this type of situation.

“Just keep imagining Spock with a crying infant,” she suggested. “That’ll help.”

“What else?” Kamau asked, sounding desperate for any reassurance possible.

“Imagine Makena totally apathetic until she has a baby and then needing her big brother to help her,” Nyota offered. 

“And you?”

She shrugged. “Oh, I’ll be here all the time. But, also, I’m going to tell your kid everything embarrassing that’s ever happened to you when it’s fifteen years old and already can’t stand you.”

“You will not,” Kam said, but he was smiling, reaching out to tug on her ponytail.

“Stop,” she said.

“Stop,” he said.

“I’m serious,” she said and shoved him away.

“I’m serious,” he said and reached for her again and she smacked him on the arm.

“I’m leaving,” she said as he tugged on her hair again. “You’re the worst ever. I’ll make sure it’s mortified of you, just you wait.”

“He,” Annette said, looking over, one hand on her stomach. “Make sure he’s mortified of Kamau.”

“He,” Nyota agreed, trying to free her hair from her brother’s grip. “And Dad doesn’t stand a chance, not with that.”

“I hope so.”

“He,” Nyota murmured again, loosening her brother’s fingers one by one. “Are you five years old? Let go. I’ve got to go. I told Mom I’d call her tonight.”

“If you wait a moment, I will walk with you,” Spock said as if she and Kam weren’t acting like children again, as if he wasn’t spinning her around and trying to tickle her.

Annette was smiling, though, for the first time that night, watching Kamau wrestle with her and Nyota gave him another shove, elbowed him as she grabbed her jacket.

“Grow up,” she laughed as Kam gave one last effort at messing up her hair.

“See you later, punk,” Kam said, walking her and Spock to the door. “Don’t stay out too late. It’s a school night for someone. It’s past your bedtime. I should call Mom and Dad and tell them that-“

The door slid shut in the middle of his sentence and Nyota couldn’t help but grin, couldn’t help but flick open her comm and text her brother back when he texted her a quick message to finish his sentence, that she would surely be grounded if she stayed out too late before her classes.

She smiled and looked up from her comm to find Spock watching her, obviously amused.

“Don’t you start, too,” she said quickly.

“I will not,” he said, in a tone that suggested that if he had been human, he would have held both hands up in surrender.

By waiting a moment for him, Spock actually meant stopping by his place while he grabbed his bag for the gym. It was up a couple of floors and down a similar hallway, a nondescript door that opened with a touch of his hand into a wave of heat and a hint of incense, warm in a way that reminded her of home, reminded her of the heat of her parent’s house, the sun baking into everything, none of the damp chill of San Francisco, none of the fog and dreary gray. 

“Just a moment,” he said, walking towards what must be his bedroom as she looked around, taking in her surroundings, a place she had never even imagined, and now that she was there, all she could think was of course. It was so much like his parent’s home on Vulcan, as much as it could be mixed in with regulation furniture. He had the same gray couch as Kam and Annette, the same table and chairs, but a holo of the Forge hung above his bookshelf, a row of Vulcan spices on his kitchen counter, a plant she knew his mother grew in her garden was on the windowsill and there, next to his desk was his ka'athyra.

It was easier to think here in the warmth and heat, easier to adjust to having seen Annette again, having seen her brother with the woman who would be his child’s – her nephew’s, she thought – mother, seen his new home and his new life. 

She studied the harp that looked so familiar, the polished sheen worn to a fine matte on the fingerboard, the graceful sweep of the neck anchoring her buzzing thoughts from her evening with her brother, her long first day of class. She reached out to touch the curve of the wood, brushing her fingers against the strings so that a few notes pierced the air, and realized Spock was suddenly behind her. 

She dropped her hand as she looked up at him.

“Sorry,” she said. “Are you ready?”

He nodded and she noticed the strap of what must be his gym back slung across his chest, hugging his torso over the gray t-shirt he had changed into.

She stepped back from him quickly, looking away from him, tightening her hands over her padd, listening to the stillness of his apartment, realizing how alone they were, how quiet it was, how calm and secluded it was here, even with her brother in the same building, even with the muffled noise from the street rising up from below them.

“If you would ever like to play again, you are more than welcome to,” she heard him say as if from a great distance.

“Oh, um, thanks,” she said, looking up at him to find him watching her. “That’d be… that’d be nice, sometime, maybe.”

He nodded and stepped back as well, motioning her through the door and out into the hall again. The night air outside his building was refreshingly cool against her face, which felt flushed and warm, probably, she thought as she took a deep breath, from the heat of his apartment.

They walked in silence, their steps taking them back towards campus, towards her dorm and his trip to the gym, towards a quad bustling with cadets and officers starting their semester.

“How was your first day of class?” he finally asked, his voice breaking through the quiet of the night.

“It was… it was fine,” she said. “Long.”

“Are you enjoying your classes?”

She frowned, shook her head. “I have Intermediate Subspace Physics and it’s just… I’m not good at it. And I know I have to be, since I have to understand the theories for the long range communication sensors, but it’s really not my subject.”

Spock looked thoughtful, his head tipped slightly to the side. “You are an excellent mathematician, I would not think it grossly outside the purview of your strengths.”

She shrugged. It felt better to talk about it, better to say out loud how horrible her class had been, rather than bottling it up inside her where it just chewed away at her, a sinking feeling that she could never quite banish. “I think that makes it worse. I keep thinking that if I work harder at it, I’ll get it and I just don’t and it’s… frustrating. I feel like I’m just destined to be bad at it.”

“I hardly believe that will be the case,” he said simply, like he couldn’t quite imagine a scenario where she didn’t excel at something. “Some skills and disciplines take more application than others.”

“I’ve tried,” she sighed, though she felt slightly bolstered by his statement.

“Would you like assistance?” he asked, looking down at her when she looked up and she nodded, smiled, nodded again.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

“Of course,” he said, falling silent again as they walked, the quad drawing closer so that she could hear the voices of cadets rising and falling, the bustle of campus, even at this hour, inexorably busy.

“Listen,” she said, before they quite got there, while it was just still him and her on a dark, quiet path. “I know you probably have some really sound logical reasoning for doing so and this doesn’t matter, but thanks for helping out Gaila and for listening to her. I really appreciate it.”

He was silent for a long time, just the sound of their footsteps, the whisper of leaves, the shouts and laughs of cadets in the distance.

“Cadet Gaila is the only member of her species here at the Academy,” he finally said in explanation, staring at he pavement in front of them as they walked.

She thought about him too human on Vulcan, too Vulcan on Earth, how mad he had always been at himself for not fitting in, and how uncomfortable he felt about that anger he could never quite banish, the disquiet that had sometimes settled over him as a child, as a teenager, and now as a grown man, staring somewhere just in front of his boots

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hoping he understood and she thought maybe he did because he turned away slightly, picked up his pace, his shoulders set and his posture just this side of strained. He didn’t quite look at her, didn’t quite meet her eyes and then he did, looking away again quickly, but not before she caught that measure of appreciation in his gaze, a flicker of gratitude and sadness and gratefulness.

“She is quite fortunate to have you as a roommate,” he said.

“She’s lucky to have you, too,” Nyota said softly, quietly, looking up at his profile cast in sharp relief from the lights of campus. “I mean, she’s mortifying and horrible most of the time, but she’s also the best.”

“I have heard you describe your sister thusly,” he said and she had to laugh.

“Yeah. They both… I don’t know. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”

She saw him shake his head, then looked away when she realized she was staring. 

“Hardly. You seem to cultivate relationships with people who care deeply about you.”

She grinned. “Or those who take pleasure in tormenting me.”

“I suppose that if you extrapolate that logic to its inevitable end, the conclusion would be that you will become fast friends with Cadet Kirk.”

“Spare me,” she groaned. “I can happily live without him in my life in any capacity.”

Spock nodded again and if she didn’t know him so well, she wouldn’t think he had relaxed slightly, like something in him had eased.

“So I should not deduce that I too should plague you with constant reminders of instances you deem ignominious?” he asked and she laughed and shook her head.

“You’re probably the only person around here that takes me seriously,” she said, her tone much more sincere than she had thought it would be, more serious and earnest.

“I will endeavor to continue, then,” he said and she looked up at him, smiled as he almost smiled back, his eyes soft.

“Thanks,” she said and he was still looking at her with that gentle expression and then he was blinking, looking away again.

It was easier like this with him, their quiet conversation reminding her of how it had used to be when they were younger, under a different night sky, when things were simple between them, none of the arching tension or awkward responses. She glanced up at the stars above them, at him, chewed on her lip and braced herself.

“Look, ignominious and all, um, Gaila, she’s probably going to just keep, you know…” she said after a long, silent moment. “She’s… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to tell her, I mean, I did tell her, but, she won’t, you know…”

She shook her head, paused where the path to her dorm split off and he stopped as well, looking down at her. They were standing a fraction too close, a distance that was slightly… something, Nyota thought, but then they were both stepping back and she didn’t think about it, tried not to, at least.

“She has admittedly excellent discretion and tact, which is an interesting dichotomy in her character,” he said and she relaxed, let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Yeah, I mean, she won’t… she’d never… I’m sorry I told her,” she said to her boots, resisting the urge to start scuffing her toe against the pavement. “I just wanted… to, um… know that you know that.”

He didn’t say anything but she could feel him looking at her and she swallowed and soldiered on.

“And, um, if it’s weird for you, or was, or whatever, it kind of was for me, too, and I’m sorry,” she finished in a rush and he nodded and she nodded and they looked at each other for a fleeting moment until she flushed and looked away.

“Thank you,” he said softly, so quietly that she barely heard it.

“Yeah, um, have a nice time at the gym,” she said, which sounded like a strange thing to say, but he just nodded again, his focus somewhere over her shoulder.

“Have a good evening,” he said, turning away. She watched him go, his silhouette dark against the lights of the buildings around them, then shook herself and started to walk towards her dorm.

“Nyota,” she heard and spun back around to find he had stopped, had turned back towards her. “I am… gratified to be working with you this semester. It is enjoyable to spent the time in your company.”

She smiled, tucked her chin, feeling the last of the tension flow out of her. “Yeah, me too. It’s nice to have you around again,” she said softly, looking up at him, a frisson of understanding passing between them, a tenor of ease and affability that hadn’t been there for so, so long. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And the day after that, she thought, watching him start to walk away again. And the day after that, and after that.

…

“How was your first day back at class?” her mother asked when she called her that night. “You look happy.”

“I am, it was great,” she said, still smiling.

“You weren’t too tired after the weekend?”

“What? Oh.” Nyota tried to think back to this morning. “Maybe. Yeah. But it was a really nice day.”


	14. Chapter 13

It was quiet in her corner of the mess hall, a chance to catch up on work, to read an article that Spock had sent her, to message her sister. It was calm and private and secluded until it wasn’t, until a tray was dropped on the other side of her table and she looked up into pair of smiling, bright blue eyes.

“No,” she said.

“Thanks,” Kirk said, dropping into the seat across from her. “I was hoping it’d be ok if I ate with you.”

“It’s not.”

“We’re neighbors.”

“I heard.”

“It’s kind of nice having someone I know in the dorm.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m trying to learn everyone’s names.”

“Good luck with that.”

“You see, I’m trying to be friendly, outgoing, welcoming, generally agreeable.”

“That sounds nice,” Nyota said, stabbing at her salad. “Let me know when you get around to well-mannered, gracious, and able to take a hint.”

He grinned at her, a smile so clearly designed to disarm and impress that she just rolled her eyes.

“I can take a hint,” he said. “And this flirting? You are aces at this. It’s so nice to meet my own equal-“

“Oh please, just stop.”

“-Someone who can truly appreciate-“

“I don’t appreciate anything about you.”

“You don’t even want to give me a chance?”

“My first answer was my last one. But thanks, really, there’s nothing nicer than being ignored.”

“I am not ignoring you.”

She sighed and speared a tomato. “You could give it a try. I wouldn’t complain.”

He say back, crossed his arms, smiled again.

“You’re pretty hard to ignore, Cadet Uhura.”

“Luckily,” she said, turning back to her padd. “You are exceedingly easy to ignore. I have work. Bye.”

Kirk grinned again and settled into his meal, pulling out his own padd.

“Homework buddies? I dig it.”

“We’re not.”

“Getting to know each other over a series of assignments? Flirting over homework? A long night over a midterm? This is the stuff dreams are made of.”

“More like nightmares.”

“You, me, a library carrel…”

“Me and a library carrel. You and-“

“There you are,” Gaila said, dropping her tray on the table with a clatter. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Excellent, now I have back up!” Kirk grinned. “Are you here to help me convince your stunning, witting, brilliant roommate to go out to dinner with me?”

“Her? She’s hopeless,” Gaila said, digging into her brownie.

“Wow, thanks,” Nyota said, glaring at her.

“You are,” Gaila shrugged and turned back to Kirk. “Listen. You’ll have to give up on this-“ she waved between him and Nyota “- and you’re wasting your time anyway-“

“-I’m not-“

“-You are,” Gaila corrected him, taking a huge bite of a cookie. “She’s got a… whatever. It’s complicated. I mean, it’s not, but whatever. You’re wasting your time. I have a better idea.”

Nyota wondered how quickly she could pack up her work as Gaila explained her plan, shuffling her filmplasts and padds into a haphazard stack and wincing as her roommate talked on, as Kirk set his fork down carefully, looking like he was listening with every fiber of his being.

“Let me get this right,” Kirk said slowly, when Gaila had finished. “You want to have repeated, non monogamous sex for the next three years. With no commitment what so ever.”

“None. Zip. Zero,” Gaila confirmed seriously, like they were negotiating a contract. The most horrible contract ever, Nyota thought, looking at the delight spreading across Kirk’s face. “Just plain old sex. You can see whomever you want, I can see whomever I want – whomever, uh, Uhura, remember that I used that word when you’re complaining about this later- and when we feel like it, we see each other. And if we want, we can always invite someone else.”

Kirk looked like he wanted to pinch himself. Nyota seriously considered offering her services.

“Only if it’s good,” Gaila said suddenly, like she had just remembered that part. “I mean, I’m always good. But you have to be good too.”

“Trust me,” Kirk said with a grin that spread across his face. “That won’t be an issue.”

“I hope so,” Gaila said primly.

Kirk rubbed his chin, looking suddenly serious, turning to Nyota. “You’re really, really never going to go on a date with me?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the thoughtful look in his eye, devoid any type of smirk or grin, just honesty and a frank curiosity to know her answer.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m not.”

“Ok. Fair enough.” He shrugged and smiled at Gaila. “I’m in.”

“Excellent.” Gaila held out her hand and Kirk shook it and Nyota felt the next three years of her life solidify into a vision of unending James T. Kirk in her life. Three years, she told herself, it wasn’t like it would be forever. 

And she was pretty sure that Gaila would actually keep him from pursuing her, which was a relief, and for all of the horrible images this deal was conjuring in her mind, that would be a truly welcome respite, a chance to escape from his attention, that annoying grin, the constant prattle of-

“Listen, I’m so, so sorry,” Kirk said, leaning towards her as she drew back, frowned at him.

“I know this is going to be hard on you to hear this,” he said, reaching across to take her hand and she glared at him, pulled it away. “But I just don’t think it’s going to work out between us.”

She paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “You do realize that I was the one that told you that it was never going to happen, right?”

“It hurts to be turned down by Jim Kirk-“

“-You didn’t. I turned you down. Repeatedly.”

“You seem to be experiencing some denial,” he said gently.

“You seem to be experiencing a memory lapse.”

“It’ll take some time to get over me,” he said. He was grinning. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“The good news is that now we can still be friends.” 

“I’m good, thanks,”

“I understand if you need some time after all this-“

“Oh god, will you please just go?”

“But I’m really, really looking forward to being very best friends with you.”

Nyota sighed and closed her eyes.

“And as such,” Kirk said as if she was even still listening, as if she wasn’t silently reciting Romulan contractions, reviewing her list of tasks for Spock that afternoon, thinking about calling her brother to find out how Annette was doing. “I think that, as your new best friend-“

“-You’re not. You’re really, really not.”

“I should really get to know your first name.”

She only opened her eyes to find her padd to pull it closer to her, calling up her subspace physics problem set and starting to read the first question, thinkng she’d rather muddle her way through an assignment for that class than spend another minute talking to Jim Kirk.

“I can help you with that,” he said and she groaned.

“No, thanks, I’ve got it.”

“I love subspace physics. Momentum conservation, multi-layered warp fields, friction coefficients…”

“I’m going to throw up,” she muttered, the sound of Kirk’s voice reciting subspace physics making her want to scream. Or maybe just beat him with her padd. “You shouldn’t even be in this class.”

He grinned even more broadly. “I read the textbook for fun. Also, I tested out of like half my courses. And Bones is only here for the technical training, he’s already a doctor. We’re in most of your classes.”

“Oh, please no.”

“So I’ll see you all the time.”

“You won’t, you’re not in my section of that class.”

“These things can be fixed,” he grinned. “We can sit next to each other-“

“-No-“

“-Share our notes-“

“-Never-“

“-Get coffee beforehand and talk about our hopes and dreams-“

“-My only hope is that I never, ever have to see you again-“

“-Ours is a glorious friendship, Uhura. I’m so glad we’ve found each other.”

“Can’t you go and-“ she waved between him and Gaila, who was sitting there with an ear splitting grin.

“Sure. We’ll leave you alone. Buddy.” Kirk grinned and grabbed his tray. “Your room or mine?”

“Not ours,” Nyota said. “Never. Nope. No way.”

“Or ours,” Nyota heard as Kirk’s roommate – McCoy, she reminded herself – sat down across from her. “Whatever it is you’re planning, not gonna fly, kid.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Gaila said with her usual happy smile.

Kirk tossed Nyota a grin and a cocky salute. “See you in class.”

“Who does he think he is?” she asked McCoy. “Is he ever not like that?”

McCoy’s heavy sigh and the way he shook his head was the only answer she received as he stabbed at his own lunch. 

…

Spock’s office was a welcome respite from annoying cadets who had, apparently, made good on their promise to switch sections of classes, a respite from Kamau’s stress over his impending fatherhood, and a respite from the familiar grind of the semester.

It was a respite despite the fact her work for him was harder than most of her class assignments, the fact it was demanding and meticulous and precise, the fact it was rigorous in a way that required her concentration and focus for hours. 

She loved it. A lot. 

It was interesting, and to a large degree he let her work on what she wanted to, let her help him pick research topics and choose papers to assign to his students for reading. He listened to her ideas, sometimes nodding and responding right away, sometimes bringing up a comment she had made much later, but in a way that was obvious it had been churning in his head in the meantime. 

He was clear and direct in what he wanted, took time to explain tasks, articulating the how he wanted her to go about doing things, and he stayed late more than once to answer her questions.

He was familiar, being with him comforting and natural, a presence of calm in the face of even more homework, higher expectations, harsher grades, and stiffer competition.

She had spent so many years without seeing him, and so many months not spending time with him that she had missed the way his complete non expression could slide from ‘I am listening to you with excruciating thoroughness’ to ‘ I understand your idea and disagree’ to an unmitigated confusion, which most often occurred with Gaila dropped by during his office hours to ostensibly ask him for help on her computer science homework, and in practice distract all three of them from their work.

Nyota quickly found her days caught up in Spock’s office, her evenings spent with Kam, and, increasingly, any free time she had in the mess, the gym, the library, spent with Kirk calling after her.

“I have homework,” she said when he jogged up to her on the quad.

“Great, I do too.”

“I have homework I’m going to do alone,” she corrected.

“Friends study together,” Kirk said.

“You and I are not friends.”

“Turns out we are,” he said, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She pinched the cuff of his sleeve between her finger and thumb, carefully lifted his arm off of her.

“You can’t just declare someone your friend.”

“It worked with Bones,” he grinned. “What’re we working on this afternoon? Cause if you want to go hand to hand again after that first class, I will gladly offer myself up.”

The temptation to smack Kirk around a bit was strong, but Nyota shook her head. She didn’t especially relish the idea of touching him. 

“I’m only taking that so that I can stun you with a phaser from fifty paces,” she said, turning from him and walking quickly towards the library, where even if he followed her, he’d at least have to be quiet.

“I am stunning,” he agreed. “Wanna do some target practice? Maybe get some dinner later? Catch a movie?”

“I thought you were done asking me out.”

“I’m not asking you out, out,” he said, jogging to keep up with her. “I’m asking one of my best friends to hang out with me.”

“I have homework. Which is now the second time I’ve told you that.”

“Which we’re going to do together, right now,” he agreed, following her up the steps of the library and holding the door open for her. 

“We’re not.”

He grinned, swiped his ID after she swiped her own, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“We are.”

“I like to work by myself,” she said. “And also, please be quieter.”

“I won’t disturb the sanctity of your favorite building on campus,” he whispered loudly. “Where do you want to sit?”

The library was too empty so early in the term for her to find a table with only one seat left, but she made sure to level a glare at him as she dropped her bag into a chair and sank into another one.

“I’m so glad you’re in my hand to hand combat course,” he continued as he sat down across from her. “I love all this time we get to spend together.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I think you don’t like that I might just be smarter than you,” Kirk said.

“You’re not smarter than me,” she said automatically. 

“I might just get better grades,” he said with that annoying grin.

“You are not going to get better grades,” she said, firm this time.

“I’m going to be at the top of my class. Which, inadvertently, due to my genius prowess and incredibly gigantic brain, is also the top of your class.”

She stared at him, snapped her mouth shut and pulled out her homework. “I am going to be at the top of my class. You can go do whatever you’d like.”

“Awesome. Cause what I’d like to do is this subspace problem set with you. What’d you get for number four?”

She flipped her padd over, spread her hand over the back so that he couldn’t read it… and so he couldn’t see that she hadn’t gotten that far after spending most of her time crossing out her answers for question two multiple times, her work becoming a scrawling scribble.

“Go.”

“Because I got-“

“No,” she said, trying to remember how Makena had glared when she had found Nyota helping herself to her closet.

“Geez,” he muttered. “Just trying to find a study buddy.”

“We. Are. Not. Buddies.”

She finally shook off Kirk that evening when he had class and she didn’t. When she got to Spock’s office she breathed a sigh of relief that he was still there. She was halfway through her breathless explanation when she looked at his desk, the stacks of padds in neatly organized piles, the evidence of a dinner he must have eaten while working.

“You’re busy, I’m sorry. Never mind.”

“It is of no consequence,” he said, shifting his work to make room on his desk, gesturing for her to set her work down. “Please.”

“You… no, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back during your office hours.”

“My office hours are quite monopolized by your roommate, particularly of late. You would like help,” he said evenly, continuing to move his work. “That is why you are here.”

“Yeah.”

“Please sit. I have time.”

She sank slowly into the chair across his desk from him, eyeing him carefully.

“I absolutely have to be the top of my class this year.”

“I have no doubt that that is a salient possibility.”

“So I have to be at the top of this course. And I’m really terrible at this.”

“I sincerely doubt that is the case.”

“It’s true.”

He pulled her padd towards him, his fingers flicking over the screen and she wanted to cringe as he looked at the work she had attempted so far.

“It will not be for long. Have you reviewed the relativistic gamma factor of the mass atomic particles?”

It took three cups of tea, a night late enough that her eyes were heavy and she kept yawning but they finished it. It probably would have been mortifying to do it with anyone else, she thought, but Spock just took it in stride, just explained equation after equation until she was nodding, until she was writing them on her own. 

The look on Kirk’s face when their scores were posted was completely worth it, and the look on Spock’s when she came skidding into his office right after made her come back with the second problem set, and then the third.

…

One day, Spock stayed late in his office to listen to her complain about her hand to hand combat course, which ended up involving a lot of phasers, and a lot of Jim Kirk. 

“I assume both are unexpected additions to the experience?” he asked over cups of tea as she nodded and shut her eyes against the memory of her class that afternoon.

One day, they finished work early and made no move to leave as they were discussing the finer points of transposing Andorian music for a piano, which Spock insisted was simply an exercise in discord and dissonance and Nyota maintained was like translating a language where no words were perfect substitutes, but finding phrases that fit made it a wonderful undertaking.

One day, they took their lunches outside and sat on the side lawn of the xenolinguistics building, which was quieter and more secluded than the main quad, a place that was easier to sit and talk about Nyota’s plans for that summer, whether she might apply for an internship before her third year, if she wanted to do a rotation on a ship or choose more research.

One day, they got into a debate that didn’t end when she had to leave for a study group in the evening, and she ended up calling him as she walked back to her dorm, enduring Gaila rolling her eyes as she maintained her side of the discussion long past when she should have gone to bed.

And one day, they sat bent over his desk, arguing over the accuracy of a computer generated translation when her comm rang in her bag, again, which she ignored, again, and then his skittered across his desk as it buzzed and it was Kam and in a jumble of Standard and Swahili they found out he was a father. 

…

The baby was warm and tiny in her arms and she wondered if she was holding him correctly and tried to focus on not dropping him.

“He’s cute,” Nyota said, looking down at her nephew, slightly red, his face screwed up and his small fists waving. “What’re you going to call him?”

“Mbwana,” Kamau said.

“That’s nice,” Nyota agreed.

Annette crossed her arms. “Jack.”

“Abasi.”

“Samuel.”

“Mhinah.”

“Gary. Gary Leath.”

“Uhura.”

“Leath.”

Kam crossed his arms too and stared at the wall as Annette sighed.

“Right,” Nyota said, “never mind.”

“Is it common for dissension between parents as to the naming process?” Spock asked her quietly as they left.

“I don’t know,” she replied as they door slid closed behind them and they left the hospital. “I might ask my parents when they come visit. I also might just… not bring it up, you know?”

They walked in silence for a long moment, Nyota thinking back to the warm weight of her nephew, her brother’s slightly gob smacked expression.

“You know,” she said finally. “I think Kam’s really glad that you’re here.”

“I am certain he feels the same way about your presence.”

“I’m his sister, I have to be nice to him.”

“Shall I conclude that this sentiment only includes relationships between brothers and sisters, not relationships between sisters?” he asked and she laughed.

“I just meant that he’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Luck is-“

“Illogical. You’re like a broken record,” she teased.

“I am not certain I understand that analogy.”

She smiled up at him.

“I’ll explain it, but I think I need lunch first. Wanna come?”

…

Kirk beat her at their first round of timed target practice, twirling his phaser around his hand like it was a toy and telling her he was free that evening if she wanted to take him out for a drink to celebrate.

“I have plans,” she said, her comm already in her hand as she texted Spock. “Also, no. Even if I didn’t.”

Spock met her at the range with two sandwiches, a thermos of tea, and better advice that her training instructor had.

“You are consistently moving your entire hand when you depress the trigger, not solely your index finger,” he said.

“I am?”

He nodded, stepping closer to her.

“It is a common mistake, as you are likely subconsciously anticipating the recoil.”

“I am?”

“It is why many of your shots are consistently low.”

“Oh.” She tried again, trying to isolate the movement of her finger on the trigger. “Like that? I still missed.”

“Your distal interphalangeal joint is causing undue motion in your wrist and forearm, causing the phaser to rotate clockwise as you fire.”

“My what?”

“Your distal-“

“My what?”

She grinned when he obviously bit back a sigh and nearly laughed when she saw he was studiously not smiling.

“You have a higher proportion of your finger covering the trigger than is necessary,” he explained, taking another step towards her and she thought for a second he was going to touch her, was going to adjust her grip for her, but his hand didn’t quite make it that far and then he was nodding at the target and telling her to try again, his dark eyes trained on her.

“Right, um…” she sighted along the phaser, tried to aim but her hand wasn’t quite steady, her gaze not quite focused on the target. “Whoops.”

“Indeed.”

He stood next to her as she missed three more shots, less than an arm’s length away as he scrutinized her grip, her form and she had to blink, had to center her attention back on the task at hand.

“Perhaps you simply need more practice,” he said finally, stepping away and picking up the remainder of his dinner.

She made her next shot, and the one after that. She heard him sift through his bag and take out his padd, heard the familiar sounds of him working as she continued to shoot.

“Focus on the front sight,” he reminded her when she missed a half dozen shots in a row.

“Right, thanks.”

“Do not exert pressure with the heel of your hand,” he said a long moment later when she kept hitting above the target.

“I keep forgetting.”

“Ensure that your wrist is locked,” he said after so long she had half forgotten he was there.

“This is hard.”

“Most would find speaking Klingon hard.”

“This is hard,” she said in Klingon and when she glanced over at him, he was definitely smiling.

She kept firing until her arm was aching, her shoulders tense with the strain of keeping the phaser steady, thinking about stopping more than once, but realizing she rather enjoyed the companionable quiet, the silence of the firing range broken only by the hum of her shots and Spock tapping on his padd.

Her comm ringing broke the stillness eventually and Spock reached for it, holding it out to her.

“It is your brother.”

“Will you answer it? I’m in the middle of imagining this is Kirk I’m shoot at.”

She heard him flip it open, heard him answer it, heard the muffled sound of her brother’s voice and Spock’s rising and falling as she continued to shoot.

“Your nephew’s name is Reid Asher Uhura,” Spock told her when he hung up. “And they have returned home from the hospital.”

“Reid. Reid Uhura. Guess they compromised.”

“It would appear so.”

“Should we go see them?” she asked, finally lowering her arms and rolling her shoulders to loosen them.

“I believe that would be appropriate.”

“Hey,” she said as she swung her jacket on, pulling her hair out from under the collar as Spock repacked his bag. “Thanks so much.”

He looked down at her for a moment before taking the phaser from her and placing it on the rack that was too high for her to comfortably reach.

“I greatly anticipate you achieving top marks in your courses this year.”

“I greatly anticipate you holding the baby this time.” 

He was smiling again, picking up his bag and letting her proceed him through the door.

… 

Some days, sitting in his office with him, she thought about the fact she knew so much about his life, that she knew his parents, went to his apartment quite often, knew Kam had finally talked him into holding Reid, knew it was one of the strangest and most touching things she had ever seen, the baby’s tiny fingers around Spock’s, Reid suddenly ceasing to cry and Spock looking curious, smiling just a little down at the tiny bundle of blankets he was holding, so different that his usual rigorous focus and concentration when they were at work.

Some days, sitting in his apartment with him over a stack of padds, over hours of homework, papers and preparing for quizzes and tests, she thought about the fact he was her boss and how distant that seemed as he let her choose what music to listen to, her legs curled under her on his couch and he long since changed from his uniform, in a dark sweater and slacks that made his office seem like another world entirely as the sun faded into pinks and golds and night settled as they talked and worked.

They ended up at Kamau’s apartment more often than not after his son was born, where more than once Annette or Kamau, or both fell asleep while she and Spock watched Reid wave tiny hands, sleep with him mouth open like his father. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked one night as they left, standing in the hall as Reid’s cries faded behind the closing door. When she nodded, he offered her dinner, leftover soup that sounded wonderful, and when she got to his apartment, he offered her tea, which sounded just as nice, her hands wrapped around the heat of the mug as she sank into a chair at his table.

“Thanks,” she smiled when he set a bowl full of fragrant vegetables and broth in front of her and sat across the table with one of his own. “I guess I didn’t ever know that you cooked.”

“I never anticipated preparing homemade meals for your brother,” he said with a small smile.

“I don’t think he anticipated needing them,” she said. “At least not like this.”

“It does seem statistically unlikely.”

She stirred her soup slowly, watching the steam rise.

“Did he ever say anything about what happened?” she finally asked. “He didn’t tell us about Annette being pregnant for so long.”

“He implied it was a surprise, which I suppose is still a possibility even with our current medical technology.” Spock paused and frowned slightly. “I suppose I should amend that, in that his statement contained far more expletives.”

“I hope it works out for them. I don’t even know how long they’ve been seeing each other.” When Spock didn’t answer, she looked up from her soup at him. “You don’t know?”

“Your brother and I do not always discuss such matters.”

“No details in exchange for soup?”

“Simply more requests for soup,” he said and she laughed.

“I guess I figured that you guys talk a lot. You two seem so close.”

“I believe he expects a certain amount of reciprocal information. Would you care for something to drink?” Spock asked, standing and walking towards his kitchen.

“What kind of reciprocal information?” she called after him. “And water, please.”

“Have you begun studying for your Subspace midterm?” he asked, pouring a glass for each of them and setting hers in front of her.

“Thanks. And no. And what-“

“I have heard a multitude of students complain about the midterm examination for that class,” he said as he sat back down and picked up his spoon again. “Would you like to review the material from your problem sets?”

“Yes. But what-“

“Or perhaps we could go over your quiz from the other day?”

“I never want to look at that again. It was horrible. And what exactly-“

“You achieved almost perfect marks on it,” he said, taking another bite of soup.

“Almost perfect. Kirk actually got perfect marks. And then he told me about it. In great detail. The entire experience was abysmal.”

“Is he still under the notion that the two of you will become friends?”

“He’s delusional. He keeps following me around, won’t leave me alone, keeps bothering me. But stop changing the subject. What didn’t you tell Kam?”

“Are you sure you have not sublimated his techniques?” Spock asked with that raised eyebrow.

“Very funny, Spock. You and I are actually friends.” 

“Ah,” he said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Excellent.”

“And as such,” she continued, “you’re definitely going to tell me about all these details that you haven’t deemed appropriate to share with Kamau.”

“I am?”

“Yep.”

“It is hardly salacious.”

“A little bit salacious?” she asked, though she was suddenly considering the fact she may not want to know.

“I made the unfortunate choice of describing a less than positive experience with a female cadet while he and I were at the Academy,” Spock said and she thought he looked slightly green. “It was not a tenable relationship. And your brother was less than entirely helpful.”

She blinked, trying to imagine Spock dating someone.

“I think I want to hear all about it.”

“I can assure you that it is less enjoyable than preparing for your examination.”

“There is nothing less enjoyable than that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Literally?”

“Literally,” she said, but let the subject drop because he didn’t want to talk about it and when she really thought about it, she didn’t either.

…

She was nearly out of breath by the time she got to Spock’s office, having seen his light on when she walked past the xenolinguistics building and aborting her walk back to her dorm to go get him, wanting to talk to him as soon as possible.

“I called you,” he said when she finally made it through the door, panting.

“I can’t find my comm.”

“I am aware, as it started ringing from under my couch when I returned to my apartment,” he said, handing it to her. “I had thought to leave it here for you for tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, taking it from him. “Where were you today? I stopped by earlier to try to find you.”

“I had a meeting at Headquarters. Is something the matter?”

“I wanted to find you to tell you in person,” she said in a rush, turning her padd to show him her midterm score. “Aced it. The other important part being that Kirk didn’t.”

He took the padd from her and glanced over it, skimming through her results. 

“You remembered all of Sterling’s theories on multi-layered warp fields,” he said.

“Yeah, but only after you quizzed me on them thirty times in row.”

“I believe it was twice. Your capacity for memorization is commendable. As is your grade. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she said, grinning. “And thank you so, so much.”

“It is of no consequence. I greatly anticipate your continued success in this course throughout the semester.”

“Thanks,” she said grinning. “How was your meeting today? Anything interesting?”

“I only found your comm because I was attempting to contact you upon my return,” he said, holding her padd out to her.

She didn’t take it, her fingers suddenly slightly numb as she stared at the cuff of his sleeve, at the stripes – plural – there.

“Is that why you called?”

He looked down as well, then up at her with that small smile she seemed to be seeing so much of lately.

“Yes.”

“You were at HQ today.”

“Indeed.”

“You were meeting with Pike?’

“Yes.”

She stepped closer to him.

“And he…” She looked up at him expectantly.

“He offered me the Chief Science Officer position.”

“Which you took.”

“Yes.”

“On the Enterprise.”

“Yes.”

“You are going to be the Chief Science Officer on the Enterprise.”

“It appears so.”

“You’re a Lieutenant Commander.”

“Indeed.”

She was still staring at his sleeve and watched her hand reach out to trace the second, thinner stripe.

“That’s incredible,” she said, realizing what she was doing and pulling her hand back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“You must be so happy,” she said without thinking, stepping forward and hugging him, tight, without thinking about that, either.

“Quite,” he murmured, and then his hand was on her back, his other arm wrapped around her waist so that her padd brushed against her hip. All she could feel was the hard heat of his body, the strong, slim shape of his shoulders, his back, the wash of warmth from his hand on her and she was stepping away, taking the padd from him and staring blindly at it as he blinked and tugged down the hem of his uniform shirt.

“Sorry. I just… congratulations. Again.” She looked at him, looked at his sleeve again, at her padd with her exam results, realizing she was smiling and couldn’t really stop, even though she felt flushed and like she wanted to fill the silence. “I want to hear everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every tiny detail.”

“I believe that will take quite a while.”

“Let’s go get dinner. We should celebrate.”

“Will I have an opportunity to hear every detail of you receiving your examination results?”

“It’ll have to be quite a dinner,” she said lightly, her face still hot and all too aware of how close to her he still was. “Let’s pick somewhere really good.”


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, both since last chapter, and the fact that I wrote back to everyone's lovely reviews yesterday and then didn't post anything!

“You must rest occasionally,” Spock told her as the semester started to draw to a close and her final exams loomed before her, as she sat at his table for the seventh – eighth?- hour straight, bent over her notes from class. “Humans do not function optimally under such conditions.”

“Isn’t the point of the Academy to push us until we’re not functioning optimally, and then demand perfect work, regardless?”

“Indeed,” he said, holding out her jacket. “You demonstrate an astute understanding of your training.”

“So what are we doing?” she asked standing, stretching as she worked out the kinks in her back.

“Going for a walk. We can review the material you are required to memorize on the way.”

“Don’t you have work?” she asked, but walked towards him anyway, thinking he was going to hand her her jacket and instead he helped her into it, his hands close enough to her shoulders, her neck, that she could half imagine he had actually touched her, could feel the impression of heat on her skin after he moved away. 

“Didn’t you say you’re really busy with everything Pike asked you to do for the Enterprise?” she asked as she fumbled with the zipper, trying to make her hands work correctly.

“Yes,” he said and then quizzed her as they walked through the hills of the city for the afternoon, ducking out of the fog for a cup of tea at a café on the water, wandering through Golden Gate Park until the sun started to set. They worked through dinner that night over take out Thai, and the next night over sushi, and the one after that over stir fry that they made while she recited warp field equations in his kitchen.

She could feel the end of semester stress start to permeate the time she spent with him, with more and more hours spent over verb conjugations, lists of phonemes and adverbs, so that she grasped at any time she had to just talk to him, to just be with him. It started to effect how well she slept, so that more than once she nearly dozed off on his couch, wrapped in the warmth of his apartment, and it started to effect how much time she had for laundry, for cleaning and more than once Gaila’s clothes weren’t the only ones scattered around their room.

“Are you serious?” she asked, waving green hands at the pile of laundry Nyota was sorting through and trying to fold quickly so that she could get back to work. “You? Being a mess? I think the clouds are falling.”

“Sky,” Nyota corrected, shaking the wrinkles out of a shirt and frowning at it, trying to smooth it. “The clouds cave in all the time around here. It’s called fog. It’s depressing and horrible.”

“Someone’s cranky,” Gaila said, lounging back on her unmade bed and carefully examining her nails. 

“Yeah, you, over the fact that once – once! – I didn’t put away my clothes.”

“Hmmm, no,” Gaila said, reaching for a nail file. “I am actually not cranky, because - Jim!”

Nyota nearly jumped at Gaila’s sudden squeal and Kirk’s sudden entrance into their room.

“You,” she said, glaring at him

“Hey, it’s nice to see you too, I’ve had a nice day, thanks for asking. Listen, for number five on that quiz, did you get-“

“You’ve got to rest, kid,” she heard as McCoy came barging in after him, out of breath and glaring at Kirk. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’ve got you if I get sick,” Kirk said, grinning at McCoy. “And I’ve got her,” he said, pointing at Nyota. “Who I have to outscore.”

“Hush,” she said, trying to figure out why she had an odd number of socks. “I’m envisioning the look on your face when our class ranks are announced this spring. Also, please leave.”

“It’ll be a smile of satisfaction,” Kirk said, plopping down on her bed as McCoy crossed his arms and shook his head. “What are you even doing here? You’re never here.”

“You were the one who came in here looking for me,” she muttered, grabbing her clothes and putting them in her dresser before Kirk got any bright ideas about her personal items.

“The door was shut, so I figured someone unsociable and unneighborly was in here. Maybe you should try locking it.”

“Maybe you should try knocking.”

Kirk gave her a lazy grin and stretched out on her bed, punching at her pillow as he made himself comfortable.

“No,” she said, grabbing it from under him, barely resisting the urge to smack him with it. “Absolutely not. Get off my bed.”

“Oh,” Kirk said, all innocent blue eyes and a grin Nyota assumed some woman must find charming, for the constant female company he seemed to keep. “This one’s yours? I think I got confused a few times.”

“Cadet Kirk murdered in Starfleet dorm, the judge rules justifiable homicide.” 

“If you spent more time with us, I wouldn’t make this kind of mistake,” Kirk said, standing and slinging his arm around McCoy. “We want to hang out with you, you know. I’m just guessing you must have a boyfriend, to want to only be friends with me, and he must be really, really good looking, or you would have given me a chance. I mean, nothing compared to me, obviously, cause I’m like a ten and-”

“You’re a three,” she corrected. “Actually, that was pretty generous. A two.”

“What’s a one?” Gaila asked, still filing her nails.

“A Gorn. Get out. Go. Now.”

“I like him,” Gaila said after McCoy dragged Kirk, still protesting, out of their room. “He’s fun.”

“He’s horrible,” Nyota said, carefully replacing her pillow. “I’m just going to assume that you two… my bed… you never…”

Gaila shrugged and started filing her thumbnail.

“Seriously?”

“That was super shrill, Ny,” Gaila said, rubbing her ear. “But kind of worth it.”

“You- and, and him- on my – you- Gaila!”

“We didn’t,” Gaila said, grinning. “But that was kind of fun to see how mad you got.”

“If you ever-“ Nyota sat down on her bed and crossed her arms. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Gaila corrected. “And you never spend any time with me anymore. You can make it up to me by telling me about this super handsome boyfriend of yours.”

“Oh, please, Kirk was just trying to annoy me.”

“Good thing he didn’t succeed in actually annoying you. You did such a good job of keeping your cool.”

“Don’t you start,” Nyota said, reaching for her boots. “I’m going, I’ll see you later. And if he’s in here when I get back…”

“Going where?” Gaila asked, rolling onto her side and propping her head on her hand as she watched Nyota zip up her boots. 

“I have to study.”

“Alone?”

“I would stay here if I thought you wouldn’t distract me all night.”

“Going somewhere you can focus?”

“Yes.” 

“Somewhere quiet?”

“Definitely.”

“Probably going to have dinner while you’re out?”

“I guess so.”

“Maybe going to see someone who can answer questions if you have them?”

Nyota sighed and grabbed her bag. “I am never, ever going to be in a position where I need help from Kirk.”

“Have fun with your boyfriend.”

“Oh, stop. Not you, too. You should know better than that.”

Gaila smiled, one of such innocence that Nyota thought Kirk must have been giving her lessons.

“I obviously meant your Cardassian grammar textbook. That’s your one true love, right? No eyes for anyone, oh, whoops, I mean anything else? Dark cover, all gray and black, a really slim book that has a certain… air about it, kind of mysterious to the rest of us but you just can’t get enough of it, all day you could just- “

“Really?” Nyota sighed. “Really?”

“The two of you, a desk, a-“

“Are you done?”

“Nope,” Gaila grinned, flopping back on her bed. “I’ll have more when you get back tonight. Have fun!”

… 

She and Spock stayed late at work some days, finishing projects and talking as the sun set, walking across the quad slowly. They discussed verb use in various Klingon dialects, deliberated whether it had been a good idea to start the Enterprise’s construction on Earth, what with the strain of getting in to Spacedock in the next few years, and debated whether Nyota’s high score in Andorian Asteroid Adventures from when she was six should count against Kam’s, since Makena had tripped over the power cord halfway through Kam’s turn and really, how was that Nyota’s fault?

They ate lunch in his office most days, on the lawn next to the xenolinguistics building the few times it was sunny, and in the mess hall the rest of the time, most often with Gaila joining them as she loudly lamented that Kirk and McCoy’s schedules didn’t match up with theirs and Nyota was silently thankful for that fact.

They rarely found time to leave campus as the term wore on and Nyota’s days were quickly filled with study groups, Spock’s with increasing work for Pike, his plans and schematics for labs, equipment, tricorders piling up in his apartment and his office. Sometimes they made time for a walk, other times a cup of tea from a café that had selections from Vulcan, and once, made their way into an antique bookstore as they muddled their way through finding something to get Reid for the holidays, which were quickly approaching with the end of the term.

“Why would one bid goodnight to an orbiting satellite?” Spock asked as Nyota took the paper book from him and flipped through it.

“This is a good one,” she said, feeling him come to stand behind her as he read over her shoulder.

“Most of these objects are inanimate and therefore can not appreciate the sentiment.”

“It is rather illogical,” she conceded, sliding it back onto its shelf. “I think all of these are.”

“Why is this Lepidoptera experiencing such an over stimulated appetite?” he asked, pointing to another book.

“I loved this one.” She pulled it down and opened it. “I had it on a padd. I’ve never seen it in print before.”

“It seems to be marred,” he said, reaching around her to run his finger over a series of holes in the ancient cardboard, close enough that she could feel the heat of his arm against her own.

“It’s supposed to be like that,” she said, telling herself to step away from him but instead staying where she was.

“I do not believe this is a scientifically accurate representation of a diet a caterpillar would find in the wild.”

“I bet your mom just loved finding books for you to read,” Nyota drawled, turning towards him and finding him closer still, closer than she thought he had been.

She blinked at the sudden view of his back as he turned away towards the shelves, scanning the titles again.

“This is the most rational story we have found here,” Spock said, sounding legitimately disappointed. “I believe I am coming to understand why as a child you were so-“

“If you say anything other than brilliant, logical, or well mannered, I will-“ she mimed hitting his shoulder with the book and he slipped it out of her hand and walked towards the cashier.

“That is precisely what I was planning to say.”

“Vulcans don’t lie.”

“But they do revise their planned statements when it is appropriate to do so.”

“Give that back to me so I can smack you with it.”

“I believe it is an antique.”

“Its age does not logically render it useless as a weapon.”

“If you continue on this vein, Nyota, you may find yourself as famished as the character in this book.”

“You’re just cowed by my excellent logic. And you promised to make me dinner.”

Spock stepped out to take another call from Pike, the third time the Captain had called him that day, while the clerk wrapped the book in brightly colored paper. Nyota thought it was probably a good thing Spock was missing this part, not that she wouldn’t be above a debate on the merits of wrapping paper.

“Is that all? Can I help you or your boyfriend find anything else?”

“He’s not, we’re not… no, we’re all done, thank you.” Nyota took the package and put it carefully in her bag, looking up at the clerk when she was done. “We’re not dating.”

“Um, ok. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks.” Nyota stepped out of the shop to look for Spock, wondering what all that was about.

…

She graded papers for his class, going over his rubric with him, handing him padds as she finished so that he could write a final comment on each. They graded quizzes together, dividing the stack of padds on his coffee table in half, but he always finished quicker than she did and she laughed, batting his hand away from her pile, telling him that if he wanted to help, he could feed her.

She helped students during his office hours, answering questions on morphology, phonology, smirking at him when the third female cadet in a row came in without an actual question, wanting his help, not hers, and laughing out loud when he asked if Gaila was planning to come by, since she at least had salient inquiries, even if they were interspersed with less consequential remarks about Nyota’s personal life, or lack thereof.

She researched for him sometimes, between other assignments, sending him papers that they discussed long into the night, the light in his office turning gold, then rose, then a deep, dark blue as he reached to turn a lamp on without pausing from what he was saying, their talks stretching past when everyone else had already gone home and their footsteps echoing down the empty halls when they finally left.

She did her homework in his apartment more often than not, walking back with him after work, or meeting him there when her classes and meetings let out. It was easier to concentrate there than in the library, with Kirk following her around and the number of students crowding into the building as finals drew closer. It was warmer than anywhere else on campus, warm in a way that reminded her of Africa, of Vulcan, warm enough to dispel the perpetual damp fog of San Francisco. 

“Spock,” she said one day as she sat at his table, her work spread out across the surface, watching him snap his comm closed after a lengthy debate with another professor over the merits of an in class versus take home final. “Did you at some point figure out that if you use enough subjunctive clauses in a statement, everyone will stop listening and simply agree with you?”

He looked up with a small smile. “Perhaps.”

“Oh just stop. That’s horrible,” she said, smothering a smile of her own. She pitched stylus at him, which he caught without glancing up from his work.

“Perhaps,” he said again, setting her stylus on his desk as he reached for a stack requisition forms for the Enterprise’s labs.

“Can I have that back?” she asked trying to catch his eye, but he was focused on sorting through the pile, adding some to a shelf that was rapidly being dedicated to his increasing workload for the Enterprise, filing others in a drawer in his desk. “I have this thing called exams that I would rather like to study for.”

“So I have heard,” he said, his voice light, shifting her stylus to the other edge of his desk when she grumbled and stood to retrieve it. “Preparing for examinations is a most estimable pursuit.”

“I’m trying to work,” she said around a smile as she grabbed for it and he moved it just out of her reach.

“You seem to be having some difficulty completing your tasks,” he said, moving it once more when she reached for it again. “You would be better served by using a stylus.”

She was laughing, then, leaning over him when he held it away from her, bracing her hand on his shoulder as she grabbed it from him. She went back to her seat before she could think of the how solid his shoulder was, trying to ignore the way she could still feel his warmth under her hand and the way he had looked up at her and quickly looked away again.

…

“You two can eat a lot,” Annette said, pushing her own plate away and watching Kamau and Spock help themselves to seconds.

Nyota nodded, passing Spock the pasta, again. There wasn’t quite enough room at the small table, Kam kicking her more than once, which she wasn’t entirely sure wasn’t on purpose.

“It was disgusting when they were teenagers,” Nyota confirmed as Spock took the bowl from her, their arms nearly brushing, they were sitting so close to each other. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to focus on Annette. “Our parents used to give up cooking for them and just made them replicate their own meals.”

“I can see why,” Annette said with a slightly horrified expression.

It was the third time Nyota had been over that week, the first when her parents had come to visit the new baby, the second when Kamau had forced Spock to celebrate his promotion with all of them, arguing that dinner with just Nyota didn’t count. Spock had just blinked at Kam, standing next to Nyota in the small kitchen so that she nearly bumped into him when Kam elbowed her to the side to grab a beer as he explained to Spock the necessity of actually inviting everyone.

They were there again now, she and Annette chatting about classes, Annette’s new position as a flight instructor when she went back to work the next semester, and about Nyota’s family as she tried to explain the family tree in preparation for Makena’s wedding, and as she tried to explain Makena, which was work enough.

“Gabe? Is that right? They’ve been together for a long time now?”

“For ages. Since before I started college,” Nyota confirmed. 

“Your family must know him about as well as they know Spock, at this point,” she said.

“Everyone’s really excited to meet you, too,” Nyota said quickly. “They all ask about you all the time.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Annette said with a tight smile and Nyota reached out to squeeze her hand. 

She liked Annette more and more as she got to know her, found her friendly and amusing, full of stories of being a pilot, of working with Kamau on the Eisenhower, of her own days as cadet.

“Just wait until your finals at the end of next semester,” Annette told her one night with a wicked grin. “They ones at the end of second year are really tough.”

“I’m trying to get through these,” Nyota said, holding up a stack of flashcards.

“At least you have Spock to help.”

“Yeah,” Nyota replied, looking over to where Spock was sitting with Reid on the floor next to the couch, watching the baby’s valiant, but futile, efforts to roll over.

“You’re so lucky,” Annette continued, both of them watching as Reid waved a chubby hand towards toy shuttle craft near Spock’s knee.

“He’s been really helpful with some of my courses,” Nyota agreed as Spock nudged the toy closer, so that Reid could bat clumsily at it. “It’s been great, actually.”

She was thinking of all of Spock’s help with her subspace problem sets, holding a padd with his corrections to her warp vector equations when she bumped in Annette in the entrance of her and Spock’s building only days later. Nyota quickly tucked her padd into her bag to help Annette with the door.

“I didn’t realize you were coming over today,” Annette said as Reid yawned and waved a tiny hand. “I just took him for a walk to try to get him to sleep. I’m sorry I wasn’t home.”

“Oh, no problem, I was actually at Spock’s,” Nyota said quickly, drawing her finger down her nephew’s cheek.

Annette gave her a grin.

“For the evening? Fun,” she said, patting Reid again. “It must be so nice to have him here, after he was gone on the Lexington last year.”

“Yeah, I guess it is. It’s also great to have you and Kamau here. It’s nice to see everyone so much.”

Annette smiled at her again. “I really can’t believe Kam doesn’t give you a hard time about Spock.”

“What?” Nyota asked, smiling down at the baby. “I go over to Spock’s all the time, Kam doesn’t care.”

Annette shrugged. “I guess you two have been together so long Kamau’s gotten over teasing you.”

“I work for Spock,” Nyota said slowly. “And we’re friends. That’s why we’re always together.”

“Oh,” Annette said. “Really? I’m sorry, I’m just so tired all of the time. I just thought…”

“We’re not dating,” Nyota clarified for her. 

“You’re not? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Nyota said, then said it again just for good measure. “Yes. I am sure we’re not dating.”

“Kam said you two had been friends since you were kids and I just assumed, with the way you two… You know what, never mind, I guess he never said you were actually involved. My mistake. Have you eaten?” Annette asked quickly. “I don’t think this little guy is going to go to sleep any time soon, so I’m going to stay up with him anyway. We could make something, if you’re hungry.”

“I, um, just ate with Spock,” Nyota said. “But thanks.”

“And you’re not dating him.”

“Right. Exactly.”

Annette frowned. “I obviously need to sleep more. I could have sworn you two were seeing each other.”

Nyota smiled weakly.

…

Spock taught her how to draw her phaser and shoot a target in one smooth motion, then how to do the same with a moving target, and then how to do it while switching the phaser’s stun setting to kill and back again between shots. He stood behind her most of the time, so she couldn’t see him but could feel how close he was, hear the deep rumble of his voice telling her to draw her elbow back, to not take her eye off the target despite other distractions he programmed into the simulation, and to anticipate the recoil and let her arm absorb it. 

He taught her how to play his harp again one night after she turned in a paper, which she hadn’t played since she was a child, remembering how she could barely get her arms around it. Twice he reached to adjust her fingers, stopping right before he touched her and tucking his hand back into his lap, explaining instead, his gaze trained on the harp as he carefully didn’t look at her.

He told her about his meetings with Pike, the hours he spent each week at Headquarters pouring over schematics, discussing different options for equipment, and she told him about her classes, how her study groups went, her paper she was researching for Advanced Cardassian on different dialects, anything to keep talking when she had a break from work, when they stayed up late in his apartment, the night still and quiet around them, closer together on the couch than they really needed to be.

…

In the break room the day before her exams began, Eneis asked after her plans for the next semester, since Spock had turned down the department’s invitation to teach again, citing his increased responsibilities to the Enterprise and his duties programming simulations for command track cadets.

“I’d love to work for you again, thank you,” she said, stirring milk into her tea slowly, trying to ignore how the reminder that she couldn’t work for Spock next semester still stung. He had already told her and it was fine. It was completely fine, and she would still see him all the time. Probably. Maybe not daily, but he was right that it was logical he adjust his responsibilities due to his promotion. She knew that for as much as he was interested in xenolinguistics, he liked programming better and Gaila was already hoping he would teach a computer science class or two, which would be great for her, Nyota thought. And for him, if it would make him happy and if it would give him time to focus on the parts of his career he enjoyed the most. And she could work for Eneis, and she would probably have more free time without Spock as her boss, and it would be really great, all of it. Really, really great. Which was why, she told herself, it was completely illogical that she cared so much that she couldn’t work for him again. 

“You must be so proud of Spock,” Eneis continued, picking up his own tea and sipping it. “Such an incredible promotion. And he’s so young!”

“I’m sure we all are, sir,” she said.

“And you must be so looking forward to next semester!” Eneis chuckled. “If you don’t mind me saying so, of course.”

“To working for you?”

“No, I meant with the Lieutenant Commander holding a position outside of the department.”

“Why, um, would I… What?”

“So you two can- Oh,” Eneis said, drawing himself up short and pausing before he continued. “I just thought maybe that was why he transferred.”

“He told me he transferred because of his promotion.”

“Oh sure, sure. I just thought… he and you, you know, it’s not allowed while he’s your direct superior. I mean, it hasn’t stopped other couples, but I know you two wouldn’t get involved with each other while it’s against regulations.”

“We’re not dating,” she said carefully.

“Well I should hope not! Not until the semester is over, of course.”

“Right, but we’re not.”

Eneis chuckled again. “Excellent. I wouldn’t imagine that either of you would do that. Good luck with finals, Uhura.”

She stared after him as he walked away with his tea, and realized she was still standing there when Spock walked in.

“I was just talking with Eneis about next semester,” she said quickly when he raised an eyebrow at her standing completely still in the middle of the empty break room.

“Did he approach you about working for him again?” Spock asked as he reached into an upper cupboard for the tea he liked and she blinked and looked down at her mug before she could notice how the fabric of his uniform stretched across his back.

“Yeah,” she said, taking a sip of tea too quickly, so that it burned her mouth.

“Are you looking forward to the opportunity?”

“What?” she asked.

“Next semester? Are you looking forward to it?”

“Um.” She looked at her tea, up at him standing there with a mug in one hand and his head tipped slightly to the side, watching her, and looked at her tea again. “Yeah, I am. Uh, are you?”

“Yes,” he said, turning back to make his tea and when he glanced up at her again she realized she had been standing there staring at him, thinking about how she had never noticed how well his uniform fit him, how she had never focused on that characteristic Vulcan strength and grace in his tall, lean form, how she knew he went to the gym almost every day and his shoulders were really very broad for how slim he was, how she couldn’t really stop looking at how nice his hands were, wrapped around the handle of his mug, how she couldn’t remember if they had always looked like that, slender and elegant and then he was standing next to her, looking down at her, concerned, all dark, clear brown eyes and furrowed brows that really only made him seem even more – 

“Are you well?”

“Yeah, I um… I’m going to go back to work,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.

She backed out of the room quickly, telling herself it was the warm mug that was making her palms sweat, the caffeine that was causing her pulse to race a little faster than normal.

…

She laughed when Kam tried to wrestle with her, cuddled with Reid on the couch as the baby gummed his fists, and hugged Gaila, the two of them still finding time in the middle of final exams to curl up on one of their beds to catch up on their days, which Nyota ruled had to not have mention of Kirk, and Gaila decided had to be discussed without words she didn’t know.

She never touched Spock, and he never touched her, and she didn’t think about how he fit against her when she had hugged him, didn’t think about the hard heat of his body and how his hand felt on her back through her uniform, and certainly didn’t let memories other than ones of them as children resurface, never recalled the beating sun and hot rocks and wet skin and how his back and shoulders flexed under her hands as he moved, how his mouth felt against hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

She didn’t think about that because she thought about her subspace physics final, which was horrible, and she thought about Bjoran verbs, which she remembered all of for her exam, and she thought about how to get a good night’s sleep with Gaila chatting about a Deltan she had met. She thought about her work, how many exams she had left, and maybe about going for a run because she had a lot of extra energy suddenly, energy that made her antsy around Spock, made her fidget in a way she never had before.

…

“Oh, well, look at this,” Gaila said, picking up Nyota’s padd from her desk. “What do we have here?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Give it back.”

“Because this looks a lot like the Starfleet regulations handbook. Which, I have to say, I have read like eighty times to make sure I don’t break any rules. I love rules. You know who else loves rules?”

“No,” Nyota said miserably, trying to grab for her padd.

“The Lieutenant Commander! He just adores them.”

“Please.”

“You love them too. I mean the two of you… I think the only thing you guys like more than rules is each other.”

“Are you done yet?”

“Which is so, incredibly interesting, because look at what regulation this is open to!”

“I’m leaving.”

“Ah, but you’re not. Because we are going to talk about why you were looking up fraternization regulations.”

“We’re not.”

“We are.”

“Don’t.”

“It’s almost like you want to know whether or not you two are allowed to-“

“Stop.”

“All that time you two spend together, all those late nights, and trust me, I’m not complaining, but-“

“You’re horrible.”

“I am not, I’m awesome. I think you want to know-“

“-I want to know how I ended up with you as a roommate.”

“How you got so lucky, you mean?”

“Not what I meant.”

“Right, but what I mean is that you are just dying to find out whether-“

“-Are you finished?“

“-You can get in trouble for going over to his place all the time-“

“-Look, I don’t-“

“-All those dinners he makes you-“

“-It’s not-“

“-All those late hours in the office-“

“-We’re just-“

“-And look! You little researcher you, finding out that-“

“-I was just-“

“You were just making sure that it was all ok! Which he’s probably already done! Like eight or nine times. Or, well, I guess only once since he probably has this memorized.”

“Look, it’s not-“

“I mean, because it could totally seem like you two were-“

“-We’re not-“

“Oh, I know, or you would be in a much, much better mood-“

“-Just… no. Stop. Please.”

“-But it’s just so adorable that you want to know if you can see him so much without getting in trouble! And you can! They write what you can do, what you can’t do, what’s fraternization, what’s not. And that means, for you two, it’s almost like-“

“Gaila. We’re not dating. What are you… stop smiling like that. Stop. No. We’re not. Because…”

“Because…”

“Stop. I don’t like that look on your face. And give me my padd back.”

“No. I happen to like this relic of your admission that-“

“Nothing’s happening.”

“I know.”

“Stop smiling.”

“Nope.”

“Stop grinning like that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Now you’re laughing. I hate you.”

“I love you so much, Ny. And the Lieutenant Commander. And this is just so awesome.”

“You are my worst nightmare.”

“And yet,” Gaila said, tossing Nyota’s padd back to her, “it seems all your dreams are coming true! And mine. Jim, or whoever, or, actually, whatever, if I’m going to be politically correct about it, can stay overnight if you and the Lieutenant Commander-”

“No.”

…

They talked about her family, how much she was looking forward to seeing them after the semester ended, and they talked about Reid and Annette and Kamau, how they were settling in to life as a family, and they talked about Gaila, how she was making a name for herself in the engineering division to the point even Kamau had heard of her.

They talked about how engrossing he found his work for Pike, how satisfying it was to have input into the decisions made about the science equipment on board, how the only drawback to his position was remaining planet side until construction was complete.

“Not a significant disadvantage,” he said quietly as they walked across the quad at night, trying to glimpse the stars above them through the haze and fog of the city, their arms nearly brushing when he pointed to where Vulcan was.

They sometimes talked about his home, their shared memories there, adventures they had gone on as children in the desert behind his house with I-Chaya lumbering after them, and they sometimes talked about his mother, if she would be visiting again, and how he would like to see her more.

“Do you ever go back there?” she asked the last night of the semester, when she had a single exam the next day and she had just finished studying, her head starting to ache and her eyes burning until Spock brought her tea and she declared enough was enough, turning off her padd and pushing it away. It was dark and quiet and late and she probably should have gone back to her dorm but instead curled her legs under her on his couch and sipped her tea, her hands wrapped around the heat of her mug as she studied him in the golden lamp light.

“No,” Spock said and she had to look away from the long line of his back as he set his own mug down. “I have not been back since I left for the Academy.”

“Really? That was ages ago.”

“I have little desire to return, and my mother visits Earth at times.”

“Your father does too,” she said, focusing on her own mug, not on how he could keep his perfect posture even while sitting on the couch. “I know my parents go up to see him sometimes when the Federation is in session in Paris.”

“Would you like more tea?”

“I have a full mug. You just poured it,” she said, trying to catch his eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you thought more about applying to the internship at the VSA?"

“The one your mother mentioned last year?” she asked, thrown by the sudden shift in topic. “I downloaded the application the other day, but it would mean I couldn’t spend the summer doing a rotation on a ship.”

“Your resume would be more distinctive with an off world internship, rather than the shipboard service most cadets complete in the interim between their second and third years.”

“Yeah,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “And we all know I’d do anything to out rank Kirk at graduation.”

“Your ambition is exemplary.”

She shrugged. “I might not feel that exemplary in a room full of VSA students.”

“I very much doubt you will find it more difficult than the standards you have set for yourself here.”

“Says the guy with the flawless final record,” she said, poking his thigh with her toe, smiling into her mug when he looked down, his expression somewhere between confused and curious. He looked back up at her, then, so close to her on the couch, close enough that the sudden silence stretched, a quiet that started to feel heavy, expectant under the weight of his gaze before he reached for his tea and she looked away, blinking at her mug.

“You are returning home for the holidays, after the semester ends,” he said as they both held their tea and didn’t quite look at each other.

“Yeah, Makena’s wedding is so soon, at the end of break. And I get to be there the whole time to help her.” She looked up at him again. “I know she invited you, since I got to hear all about the guest list. And her dress. And the food. And other details that will probably make you scream and run for the hills despite every ounce of your Vulcan heritage.”

His mouth twitched, just slightly.

“I do consider that a very real and salient possibility.”

She laughed, but it was hard to do so.

“So you don’t think you’re going to come?”

“Your brother has repeatedly implored me to do so. He has listed ‘back up’ and ‘reinforcements’ as grounds for my attendance.”

She smiled. “I guess he and Annette are bringing Reid. I’m surprised she isn’t also begging you to come. I know Gabe was terrified the first time he had to meet the entire family.”

“I do have the advantage of having accomplished that task at a young age,” he conceded. “And she has expressed a similar desire for my presence, albeit in a less demanding and plaintive tone than your brother.”

“You should come.”

“You would like me to attend?” he asked his mug of tea.

“Yeah, it’d… it’d be nice to have you there.” She swallowed, paused as she gulped the last of her tea. “Yes, very much so.”

“Very well then,” he said and then, paused, opened his mouth as if he were about to say something else, but instead set his mug down and stood and walked to his bookshelf.

“For the holidays,” he said when he handed her a wrapped package that looked like maybe a filmplast, but thicker and the wrong dimensions, or a padd, but it was more flexible than that.

“I didn’t get you anything,” she said, turning it over in her hands, looking up at him as he sat back down next to her.

“It is of no consequence.”

“You really got me a present?” she asked, finding it completely impossible to stop smiling.

“It would appear so,” he said.

“Were you about to say ‘that should be obvious?’”

“Perhaps,” he said, just the corner of his mouth curling upward.

“Should I open it now?”

“If you would like.”

“Were you about to say ‘that would be logical?’”

“It would indeed be logical,” he said, his smile slightly wider.

“Ok, then,” she said, pulling off the ribbon. “Nice wrapping job. Did you do this?”

“No.”

She laughed and threw the bow at him, which wasn’t heavy enough to quite reach him. He grabbed it out of the air, twisting the ribbon between his hands, an uncharacteristically restless gesture before he seemed to realize what he was doing and set it on the coffee table.

“Oh my god. I love it. Thank you,” she said, pulling out the thin, timeworn, ancient paper book. “Where the Wild Things Are. I’ve never seen a printed copy before.”

“I was unable to find one that was not as weathered.”

“It’s perfect, it’s so perfect. This was one of my favorites.”

“You mentioned that four times when we were looking for Reid’s present.”

“I did?”

“You also brought it with you on a padd to Vulcan twice, as well as to Aldebaran III.”

“Makena broke that padd right after that trip,” Nyota said, smoothing her hands over the book. “Although I think it was because I may or may not have hidden her stuffed Degebian mountain goat.”

“She was quite attached to that.”

“Well, I had to hide it because I spilled juice all over it. Those goats aren’t supposed to be the same color as cranberry juice,” Nyota said, carefully opening the cover of the book. “Self preservation. It was a highly logical course of action at the time.”

“I have no doubt,” Spock said, shifting closer to her so that their thighs almost touched, bracing his hand on the back of the couch next to her as he looked at the book in her lap.

“Have you read this yet?”

“I admit to a certain curiosity regarding your favorite childhood book.”

“What did you think?”

“Perhaps a salient tale for a human child. I seem to remember that you ran away from home, once.”

“Yep. Packed a bag, took Makena’s stuffed rabbit too, and just walked out,” she said, smiling as she turned another page, looking up and smiling at him, too. “I made it all the way to my grandmother’s house and stopped for a sandwich.”

“A wise choice of a destination.”

“Thanks. It was a pretty good sandwich, too.”

They lapsed into a long silence as she remembered her father coming to take her home, wiping crumbs off of her and just shaking his head with a smile as he put her in the hover car.

“Thank you for this,” she said, nodding to the book, taking in his familiar profile, the way the soft light from his lamp fell across his face, the way he looked up at her then, reached over and closed the book in her lap, his hand spreading across the cover so that their fingers rested next to each other, close enough her entire hand felt warm, or maybe all of her felt warm, flushed, as she forgot how to breathe, how to do anything other than just stare at him as he took a breath, as her heart hammered and her stomach seemed to jump.

“May I ask when you are leaving for the semester?”

She had to find her voice, then, had to speak even though it was difficult with him not quite looking at her, his fingers not quite touching hers.

“Right after my exam tomorrow. I meant to tell you earlier that I wasn’t going to be able to see you, afterwards,” she said, the words thick in her mouth. He nodded, his brows drawing together slightly as he pulled his hand back and she wanted to reach for him.

“It’s Makena’s fault,” she muttered, wishing she had never agreed to leave so soon, not with the way he was looking at her, but then he was standing, taking their mugs to his kitchen, cool air rushing in where the heat of him had been.

“Perhaps you can misplace the Ligorian mastadon she traveled with as well,” he said as he rinsed their cups.

“I don’t think that would be enough punishment,” she said, trying to make her tone light, trying to swallow the disappointment that rose in her throat, caught in her chest. 

He was quiet as she packed her bag, slipping her new book carefully between her padds, putting on her jacket against the cold and damp that was waiting for her outside of his apartment.

“Thanks for my book,” she said instead of hugging him like she wanted to. She zipped up her jacket instead of moving towards how warm he always felt and crossed her arms over her chest instead of reaching for him. She thought about her exam the following morning instead of thinking about what he might do if she stepped towards him, and tried to focus on what she had studied that afternoon instead of how she had seen that look on his face before, under the hot sun of Vulcan.

“I’m going to go,” she whispered and he nodded and clasped his hands behind his back.

“I would wish you luck on your examination, though I know you do not need it,” he said, his tone much calmer than how carefully he held himself, a precise arm’s length of distance between them.

“And it’d be illogical,” she said, as if the fact she was still standing there wasn’t.

“Precisely.” 

She made herself reach out to open the door, the light from the hall falling across them both and she blinked against the sudden glare, taking a deep breath and stepping back from him.

“I’ll see you in Mombassa,” she said.

She got two steps away before she heard him step into the hall after her and she spun on her heel to turn back to him. He held the door from sliding closed with his foot, one hand on the doorframe.

“Nyota,” he said and all she could hear was how low and deep his voice was, all she could see was him looking at her like he couldn’t possibly look away, and then all she could feel was her brother’s sudden hand on her shoulder, jostling her and asking her why she was still there.

“Spock! Do you have food? I told Annette I’d go to the store, and I didn’t, and she’s starving, and I’m screwed.” Kamau looked down at her, yanking on her ponytail like he always did. “Don’t you have finals still? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“You are ruining my life,” she told him.

“Someone’s tired. You’re like Reid, all grumpy and, yep, look, that’s the same face he makes.“

“Kam…” she said, closing her eyes as he leaned on her shoulder, grinning.

“Finals got you down? How’re they going?”

“Fine,” she said. “I’m leaving. Goodnight.”

“Have fun with Makena tomorrow.” He reached out to mess up her hair and she ducked out of his reach, giving Spock a small wave as he stepped aside to let Kamau into his apartment. She watched his door for a long time after it closed before she could make herself walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to write a little note about Kirk here, so if you prefer to have your own interpretation of him through this story, and not read about my impetus behind his characterization, stop reading now.
> 
> I struggle so, so much with Kirk’s character in AOS when it comes to Uhura. I don’t want to excuse him for being young, or not having a father, or whatnot, because he is an adult who is completely capable of being a nice person, and yet he obviously irritates Uhura throughout the entire ST:09 movie until the very, very last scene. In the previous chapter, I consciously changed him from hitting on her to wanting to be her friend, because I just couldn’t write a story where he wants to date her for three years, because I can’t believe Uhura would put up with that, whether she’s in a relationship with Spock or not. It just doesn’t jive with her character. However, canon is canon and this story has to end up three years (2 ½ I guess?) from now with her still annoyed by him, so I’m struggling with this line of him being exasperating but not to the degree she would see it as harassment or something she would tell him to stop doing. I’ve had reviews come down on either side of that, and I think it’s wonderful when folks interpret this story as they will, and I hope you all do since I love reading how my words are understood once I put them out there. However, I truly believe that if Uhura was actually uncomfortable, she would shut him down, once, for good, and I hope that I can convey that. I think Kirk is an incredible, upstanding guy even if he’s a pain in her butt most of the time, and I tried to show that in the previous chapter where he actually straight up asks her if she’s ever going to date him, and does it seriously without making a joke. Everyone should go read ‘How Many Roads, or 27 Times Jim Kirk Hit on Nyota Uhura’ by Deastar on AO3 for my personal headcannon of their relationship. I like to think he falls into the part of her life that is Gaila teasing her, Makena teasing her, Kamau teasing her, and she can give as good as she gets, without taking too much crap from anyone, and Kirk is a man who is going to turn into one of the best captains Starfleet ever has, and he can read people, and yes, he pushes Uhura, but only so far. I will also say that I have trouble writing Kirk (and McCoy, poor guy, I hope I let him talk more in the future) so this interpretation of him is probably less clear than it could be, because I understand Spock, Nyota, and Gaila much better as characters. But I just really, really hope it comes across that he’s just messing with her and she can, and would, shut him down if she felt he was over the line. She doesn’t feel like that, so she doesn’t. I wouldn’t ever write a story that took away her agency to do that, so if it feels like I’m straying too far towards that line, let me know! At the same time, I’m not going to diverge from canon, with him annoying the crap out of her, so I’ll try to balance those two the best that I can as we move forward.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is strange, because this is really not the chapter that I set out to write, but is the chapter that ended up happening. Umm… blame Gaila?

 “You’re working,” Gaila accused from San Francisco, where Nyota could see the fog through the window behind her, could almost feel the chill through the monitor in her childhood bedroom.  “Don’t even try to deny it.”

 

“It’s not school work.”

 

“You’ve been gone two days.  Two days, Ny, and there you are with a padd and probably, what, six or seven dictionaries?”

 

“One, but thanks.”

 

“You know what I think?”

 

“I don’t, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

 

“I think that you want an excuse to work.”

 

“I want to be done with this so that I can move on to the more pleasant aspect of my vacation, of dealing with my bride to be sister.  I can’t wait. Really.”

 

“I think that you’re just dying to find a place on that application-“

 

“-Do you go through my stuff? How do you know what I’m working on?”

 

“-Where you have a question about some conjugation-“

 

“Oh my god, you do, you go through all my stuff all the time.“

 

“Well, you’re never around, I get bored. But anyway, I wasn’t done, because-“

 

“-You’re done.  Gotta go-“

 

“-Somehow, you’ll find a reason you need some help-“

 

“-I hear my sister’s shriek of neediness from across the house-“

 

“-Cadet Genius Brain Uhura-“

 

“-Let’s tell Kirk that’s my first name-”

 

“-Who only will ever let one person in all of Starfleet know that she might not know something-“

 

“-Look at the time.  My scheduled call with my horrible roommate is drawing to a close-“

 

“-Because she is so perfect, and so smart, and there’s this guys she wants a reason to talk to, this one person she doesn’t mind asking for help from-“

 

“The only thing I need help with is dealing with you.”

 

“-And with that super important application for Vulcan School- wait, what?  He’s not going to help you deal with me, he and I are best friends.”

 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Nyota said, propping her elbow on her desk and her chin on her hand.  “Please, tell me all about it.”

 

“We had lunch yesterday and today!  I ran into him – I mean not literally, I was walking, humans should slow down, you know, they’re always telling these stories where they just _bam_ right into each other.”

 

“That’s… that’s not-“

 

“Anyway, we were in the mess hall and I showed him this thing I’m finishing for the stellar cartography sims and he helped me figure out this one line of code and he said my work was ‘commendable.’ Commendable.  Me.  Can you believe it?”

 

“I can believe it.”

 

“Commendable.  It was great.  So, he said he has time tomorrow, because, duh, you’re not around, and we’re going to go over-“

 

“Work?”

 

“Don’t,” Gaila said, pointing a green finger at Nyota.

 

“You’re working with him?  Tomorrow?”

 

“Shhhh.”

 

“Like as in an appointment?”

 

“It’s not what you think.”

 

“It sounds a lot like you’re spending your vacation-“

 

“-I’m relaxing-“

 

“-With one of the most demanding professors at the Academy-“

 

“-It’s not like that-“

 

“-Going over complicated, detailed, sticky, meticulous lines of code-“

 

“-You know, you’re being very annoying-“

 

“-For hours.  Inside.  When you could be-“

 

“-Look at the time-”

 

“-Out at the bar, at a beach, finding new people to-“

 

“-Exactly, I got to run-“

 

“And instead you’re discussing projects? Programming?  Going over solutions?  Learning?  Were you learning?”

 

“I was learning how many times that man can mention you in the course of a single meal.  Talk to you later, Ny!”

 

…

 

It was… nice to be back home, to sleep as much as she wanted, to read something other than academic papers, to do something other than research and study.  She saw her grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends from childhood and answered questions about the Academy, about living in San Francisco, about Kamau and Annette and Reid.  She visited, talked, chatted until she longed for the quiet of her parent’s house, the trees of their garden and the quiet of her bedroom. 

 

The stillness of her parent’s house was a reprieve from the Academy dorms, the sun and heat of their garden a break from the constant chill of the Bay Area, and the quiet of her bedroom a change from Gaila’s chatter and clothes covering Nyota’s half of the room.  She had hours to herself, days when her parents were at work to relax, go for walks, runs, take naps, to listen to the silence around her and just be alone.

 

She talked to Spock every chance she got.

 

“I hear you made a new friend,” she told him and got a raised eyebrow in return.  “A new best friend, actually, I believe she said.”

 

“Ah,” he said, “I understand.  Cadet Gaila does show a certain… enthusiasm regarding our discussions.”

 

“That’s a nice way to put it,” she said, shifting on her bed so that she could sit cross-legged, her mug of tea cradled in her hands. “How’s her volume control?”

 

“Lacking.”

 

“I miss her.”  She missed Spock too, missed the hours they spent together, missed eating with him, missed how he had always been at hand, how she had always been able to go see him if she wanted and now had to call him, hope he was home and not working.

 

“When she said she was staying at the Academy instead of coming here with me, I thought it was simply excellent self preservation skills in the face of Makena’s… commotion.”

 

“Folderol?” Spock asked.

 

“Wow,” she said, grinning at him and getting that small smile in return, the one that made her stomach jump.  “That was excellent.  Great word.”

 

Nyota watched him set his mug back down, imagining she was there with him in the familiar comfort of his apartment, wishing she hadn’t had to leave so soon after her exam, wishing she could stop looking at how his uniform fit him.

 

He looked for a moment like he was going to pick up his tea again, then looked somewhere below the screen as the silence stretched between them.

 

“Nyota-“

 

“Are you-“ she started at the same time, and then wanted to kick herself for stopping him with how low his voice had been, how he half glanced up at her before looking away when she spoke.

 

“Please, continue,” he said and she realized she had been just sitting there watching him.

 

“I was just wondering if you knew when you’d get here,” she said, swallowed.  “Have you heard from Pike about his own plans for the holidays?  If you’re still working the next few weeks?”

 

“The captain has not yet decided,” Spock said, picking up his tea again and wrapping his hands around the mug.  “I will inform you when he does.”

 

She nodded, tightening her own hands around the heat of her mug. 

 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you.  What, um, were you-“ she cut herself off, cringed at the familiar footfalls of her sister running up the stairs. “Oh no.”

 

“Ny!  Hey Spock!”

 

“Sorry,” Nyota said to him, pushing her sister’s hand away from the disconnect key before she could hang up on him.

 

“What’re you guys talking about?  I mean, whatever, let’s go, we’re going out, get dressed.”

 

“I am dressed.”

 

“You’re not wearing that.”

 

“I am,” Nyota sighed.

 

“You look-“

 

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Nyota tried to say to Spock, but Makena was waving at him, telling him she needed her sister back, talking over Nyota until she could only just reach to hang up the call, catching his eye one last time as the screen went blank.

 

…

 

“Six,” Gaila said when she called Nyota, before Nyota could greet her, could even sit down so that she could see her roommate.

 

“What?”

 

“He can bring you up an average of six times in one conversation.”

 

“What?”

 

“I figured it out.  It was four the first time, and I almost didn’t even notice it since you blather on about him for hours, but then the next time we had lunch, he talked about you eight separate times.  Eight times.  It was like Nyota Uhura hour.  And then after that, I saw him in the Computer Sciences Library – oh, don’t give me that look – and he talked about you five times, and after that I was definitely counting and yesterday he mentioned your name three times, twice brought up a project you guys had worked on, asked about you once, and then when I was leaving referred to something you two had talked about the other day.”

 

She blinked at the screen, feeling a little warm. “You went to a library?”

 

“I’m allowed to go anywhere I like,” Gaila said primly. “And stop changing the subject.”

 

“You went to a _library_? Is this why you didn’t come on vacation with me?  So that you could work?”

 

“Six times, Ny, on average.  I think I’m going to see if I can get that up to ten.”

 

“Are you going to go to a library again?”

 

“Shut up.  No.  Maybe.”

 

“What, is Kirk out of town?”

 

“He went to stupid Georgia with his stupid doctor,” Gaila sighed.  “I’m bored. The Lieutenant Commander is the only interesting person left around here.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re spending your whole vacation with him.”

 

“I would be except he’s working like mad to get done with his stuff so he can go see you.”

 

“He always works a lot,” Nyota said, trying to tamp down the flare of hope that rose in her.

 

“And he always talks about you a lot,” Gaila said with a visible shudder.  “Boring.”

 

“You could stop counting, you know.”

 

“Nah.”

 

“Take less of an interest.”

 

“Never.”

 

“Not focus so much on it.”

 

“I will do that the day you stop thinking about him so much,” Gaila said.  “I can feel it, you know, all those pheromones, all the-“

 

“Oh, just stop, you’re like having a Deltan for a roommate.”

 

“I could get into that.”

 

“You would never do any homework, you’re lucky you got me.”

 

“I am lucky.  But a Deltan… I’d settle for any telepath, really, it’s so… well, you know,” she said with a playful grin.

 

“I don’t think about him all the time. And I don’t know why I talk to you so much, you’re horrible.

 

“Ny, you have thought about that man everyday since he came back to the Academy,” Gaila sighed.

 

“I have not.”

 

“Actually, before that, when we saw him during orientation.”

 

She crossed her arms.  “No I didn’t.” 

 

“Sure.”

 

“It’s not true.”

 

“I have never seen anyone so preoccupied with someone else.  Wait, no I have. And I just had lunch with him.” Gaila shuddered again.

 

“It’s…”

 

“It’s cute,” Gaila said.  “Not like all these Terran animals are cute, let me tell you.  Baby snakes? Adorable.”

 

“Ugh,” Nyota said, wanting to shiver.

 

“Mole Rats?  I want to get one.”

 

“No.”

 

“Sea Urchins?”

 

“Sea Urchins?  Really?”

 

“Really,” Gaila said with a firm nod.

 

“I don’t see it,” Nyota said, smiling and shaking her head.

 

“I feel bad for you.”

 

“I’m sure you do.”  Nyota laughed, let the conversation wander from there because Gaila wasn’t teasing her anymore, because her heart couldn’t seem to beat normally when Spock’s name came up, and because she was all too sure the conversation would come back around to him whether she wanted it to or not.

 

…

 

“I finished it,” she told him, holding up her padd with her application to the VSA linguistics program on it.  “Just turned it in.”

 

“Congratulations.  I anticipate it will be well received.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“I believe there is a statistical likelihood that you will be admitted.”

 

“I’d be gone all summer,” she said softly. “I mean, I guess most upcoming third years do internships or rotations, but it’s strange to think I won’t be at the Academy.”

 

“It is an excellent opportunity,” he said, but it sounded forced and she couldn’t help but think of a summer with him in San Francisco, a laxer schedule, all those hours they had spent working during the semester instead spent…

 

She made herself focus her thoughts away from lazy weekends and uninterrupted hours alone with him.

 

“You’ll be busy anyway,” she told him, but mostly herself.  “How’s it going on the _Enterprise_?”

 

“Pike has been making progress hiring other department heads,” he said crisply, which sounded wrong, not like his usual excitement when he talked about his work.

 

“And?”

 

“That is all.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

He didn’t answer for a long time and she waited, watching him, the careful way he held himself, the careful non expression, and then the slightly down cast look he had when he finally answered.

 

“The majority of the candidates are human,” he said, then seemed to shake himself without actually moving.  “The entirety, I believe, to be accurate.”

 

“Oh,” she said, wanting to reach for him, wanting to be able to touch him, imagining, viscerally, being able to run her hand over the hard line of his shoulders.  “That’s…”

 

“They are all qualified officers and would excel in such a posting,” he said, sounding miserable.

 

“That’s hard.  That must be really hard.”

 

“Starfleet remains the most diverse workplace in the Federation.”

 

“Legal workplace,” she replied, trying to get him to smile.  “Gaila always points out that most of the captains, admiralty, and almost all the Academy deans are human, and stuff like this doesn’t exactly help cultivate senior officers who can move into those posts.”

 

“She has a salient point.  I have long agreed.”

 

“It doesn’t make it better.”

 

“Regardless, as there are no other Vulcans in Starfleet, it is erroneous to presume that even if one was qualified for a posting…” he trailed off, which he didn’t do very often and she actually reached towards her monitor before letting her hand fall back into her lap, empty.

 

“But maybe if they weren’t all human, even if one was Andorian, or Trill, or whatever, it’d be easier,” she finished for him, because it was something he would never say out loud.  “Do you think you would have turned down the job if you had known?”

 

“No,” he said, too quickly.  “That would not be efficacious for the advancement of my career.”  He paused and looked down again.  “You would be a minority on Vulcan and that has not stopped you from applying for a prestigious internship.” 

 

That same brusqueness was back in his tone even as he looked a little lost, a little hollow, his handsome features troubled, piqued.

 

“I don’t have to do that every day,” she said, leaving unstated that even if he went back to Vulcan it would still be just as true, knowing he was thinking the same thing when he closed his eyes for a moment, opening them to look down at his desk.  “Do you want to say something to Captain Pike about it?”

 

She knew Spock liked him, knew most of the Cadets did as well.  He was one of the most popular captains in the fleet, well respected, his captaincy earned a hundred times over, an efficient, capable leader who would in all likelihood continue to move up the chain of command.  She didn’t know whether to think it was better that he had overlooked the fact he was hiring almost entirely humans, or if that inattention spoke just as much as willful unawareness.

 

“No,” Spock said firmly.

 

“Are you ok?” she asked but she could hear what sounded like cousins, or maybe all of her aunts, gathering in the kitchen.

 

“I…” he trailed off again, seemed at a loss for words.

 

“I’m sorry, Spock.”

 

He nodded, looked up at her.  “That is appreciated.”

 

“Want me to come back there and kick Pike’s ass?”

 

He frowned, but he looked better than he had a moment ago.  “I do not understand the human predilection for believing violence will resolve a perceived offense.”

 

“It doesn’t resolve anything, just makes you feel better.”

 

“It is a wonder your species continues to flourish without the guiding force of logic,” he said lightly and she smiled at him, knowing it was his species too, knowing that he hated that just as much as his Vulcan half, knowing he hated being split in two like that, with more often than not, nowhere to go.

 

“Do you want to talk about this more?”

 

“You should be with your family.”

 

She rose, walked to her bedroom door and closed it.

 

“I have a couple minutes,” she said, sinking back onto her bed.  “You know, I think there’s going to be a lot of crewmembers who are glad you’re there.”

 

He was silent for a moment, then reached out like he could touch her through the monitor and they watched each other for a long moment.

 

“Thank you,” he said, finally, his voice less even than normal.

 

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” she said lightly, then paused, because she would much, much rather be with him, next to him, could imagine hugging him until he didn’t look so hurt, wanted to run her fingers through his hair and down his back until he relaxed, wanted to kiss him until he felt better.  “Well, you know.”

 

He didn’t quite smile but he also didn’t look so empty anymore.  “I do.”

 

…

 

Nyota heard the door open behind her just as Gaila said, “Did you know the Lieutenant Commander doesn’t want to have sex with me? I can just spend time with him and he actually doesn’t want to see me naked.  At all.  It’s amazing. I love it.”

 

“You just out and asked him that?” Makena asked, sprawled on what had been her childhood bed, separated from Nyota’s by a nightstand and the remnants of a piece of tape running the length of the carpet. “I love it.  I mean, he’s such a waste, but way to go for it.”

 

Gaila grinned, looking between Nyota and Makena. “Well, isn’t this just so much fun now that you’re here.”

 

“Can you knock?” Nyota asked her sister, but Makena was talking over her, lamenting Spock’s overdeveloped sense of propriety.

 

“Were you asking him out?” Makena asked Gaila, sorting through Nyota’s things on her nightstand even as she batted her hand away, grabbed her comm before her sister could become too interested in the blinking light that indicated an unread message. 

 

“ _No_ ,” Gaila said, her eyes cutting over to Nyota.  “No, no, no.  No. I was complaining to him about how hard it was to find professors that will work with me, especially men.”

 

“You should date him,” Makena said with a lazy yawn, lying back on her pillow.  “He’s hot.”

 

“No.  Stop. I think I’m going to be sick,” Gaila said, looking panicked, meeting Nyota’s eyes again, sounding frantic, even as Nyota gave Gaila a small smile and rolled her eyes at her sister’s questions.

 

“You don’t think he’s hot?” Makena asked, yawning again.  “He’s totally hot. Isn’t he hot, Ny?”

 

“I don’t…” she hedged, fiddling with her comm, trying not to think of his dark eyes, that small half smile, the look on his face when he had said goodbye to her the night before her last final, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t a flat out lie, that was going to get her sister off her case.  “We grew up with him.  Also you’re getting married, you’re not supposed to…”

 

“If you say not notice him, I’d have to be blind. And he was hot when we were teenagers, too,” Makena continued, unabated.  “But he’s hopeless, let me tell you. I asked him if he was bringing anyone to the wedding and he said no.  He’s like you, Ny.”

 

“Oh,” Gaila said, all false innocence. “You’re not bringing a date either?  I could have sworn that you had asked someone if they wanted to go.”

 

“You did?” Makena sounded too interested, leaving Nyota fumbling for words.

 

“I… I didn’t really ask him…” she said, trying desperately to remember their conversation, trying to think about their words and not the way he had gripped his mug, how close to her he had been, how he had relaxed, unwound slightly when she had told him he should come.  Told him, she was sure.  She hadn’t asked.

 

“My mistake,” Gaila said airily, not sounding sorry at all.

 

“Are you seeing someone?” her sister asked. “Why do you never tell me these things?  I swear, you used to be an open book and then you go to college, no, wait, it was before that, and nothing, nothing at all, no juicy details, no stories, and if I didn’t know about you and that guy, what was his name-“

 

“Yeah, what was his name?” Gaila asked, pulling distractedly at one of her curls, a wicked gleam in her eye.  “I feel like you told me…”

 

“Blond,” Makena said slowly, “from your last year of high school…”

 

Gaila grinned wider.  “Blond?  Really? I don’t think that’s who you-“

 

“Phillip,” Nyota said quickly.

 

“Phillip!” Gaila exclaimed.  “I could have sworn it was someone else, but you know me.”

 

“Phillip,” Makena said with a nod.  “That’s right.  I wonder what ever happened to him.”

 

“He was kind of a jerk,” Nyota said, thinking of other people who weren’t jerks, who were actually really nice, and kind, and considerate, and respectful, and maybe she should have done a better job of recognizing that, appreciating it, not letting it get horrible and awkward for so long.

 

“I thought you had a big thing for him,” Makena looked at her carefully.  “You didn’t? I could have sworn…”

 

“It was just…” Nyota searched for the right word, her vocabulary coming up short as she tried to remember, when all that came to mind was how young Spock looked in her memory, impossibly young, but still _him_ , and all she could think about was his mouth on her neck, her hand around-

 

“We’re not talking about this,” she said firmly, studying her comm that she still held, white knuckled, forcing herself to relax, realizing she still hadn’t read the message and starting to flip it open.

 

“Let’s talk about-”  Gaila started, that smile still on her face.

 

“Let’s talk about Spock,” Makena said and Nyota snapped her comm shut without looking at it, abruptly looking up.

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t spend so much time gossiping,” Nyota said, her cheeks burning.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Makena asked. “We’re going to talk about Kamau and Annette next and try to figure out exactly how she got knocked up, because really?  And I want to hear about this guy you kind of sort of asked to the wedding, and Spock-“

 

“No,” she said, too quickly, too loudly, because Makena frowned.  “I just mean, that, you know, we don’t know… it’s not fair to him…”

 

“I know something,” Makena said, sitting up and looking more interested in the conversation.  “Apparently, Kam spent this entire past semester trying to get him to go out with this Lieutenant in Operations and he wouldn’t do it.”

 

“Oh,” Nyota said, trying to swallow how funny it felt to think about him dating someone.  Someone else, she thought, swallowing again. He had, she knew, and it wasn’t a big deal.  At all. But it was just easier to accept that if they were faceless women during his Academy days and not someone who was at HQ, or what if she worked at the Academy, or if she was one of the people he talked to all the time for requisitions for the _Enterprise_ and Nyota hated her a lot, she decided.

 

Makena shrugged.  “I guess she was really quiet and smart and stuff and Kam thought he’d be into her.”

 

“I don’t think I could see him with someone quiet,” Gaila mused, stroking her chin in a way that made Nyota want throw a pillow at her, or at least at the monitor, her roommate on the verge of being on the receiving end of Nyota’s irritation with this unknown woman.  “Maybe someone more… communicative?”

 

“Are we really discussing who Spock would like to date?” Nyota said, tried to keep from snapping.

 

“Yep,” Makena said, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands.  “I can totally see it.  Smart, probably pretty – T’Pring was gorgeous, I don’t know what he was thinking dumping her.”

 

“He didn’t,” Nyota said before she could stop herself, them clamped her mouth shut, pressing her lips together.

 

“Never mind,” she muttered when Makena looked over at her, her mouth slightly open.

 

“She broke up with him?”

 

“I don’t know.”  She shrugged, playing with her comm. 

 

“But he was so… he didn’t even seem to care.”

 

Nyota remembered how upset he had been, the long silences, and shrugged again, wanting to talk about something else other than that particular slump to his shoulders, all those years ago. “It’s just a guess, we never really talked about it.”

 

“Aren’t you two buddies these days?” Makena asked, interested.  Maybe too interested, Nyota thought.

 

“We, um, see each other a lot.”

 

“Huh,” Makena said, looking thoughtful. “Mom said she thought you two were really close.”

 

Nyota shrugged again, thinking back to her conversation with Spock the other day, thinking about how he had called her again that night and they hadn’t really talked about anything specific, but had stayed on the comm chatting until she was nearly asleep and he had to go back to work, mumbling goodnight to him as he continued on his day.

 

“Actually,” Makena continued and Nyota heard the familiar tenor in her voice that meant she was just warming up. “She said to Dad that you guys _used_ to be really close and then you weren’t, and now you are again.”

 

“She and Dad were talking about it?” Nyota asked, her mouth dry.  “About me and Spock?”

 

“Spock and me,” Makena corrected.  “Are you ok?  Yes, they were talking about it, so don’t get on my case about gossiping, because it’s obviously genetic.”

 

“We see each other a lot with work,” Nyota muttered as Makena watched her closely, frowning.  It felt dishonest, though, like she could either say nothing or could tell Makena exactly what kept going through her mind when she thought about spending time with Spock, alone, but pretending it was just work, just professional, just friendly felt like it was cheapening something more serious between the two of them, something that ran deeper and meant enough to her that she looked up at her sister, tightened her hand on her comm. “Look, um-“

 

“Girls!” their father shouted from downstairs, like they were kids again, like dinner was ready or it was time for school and Makena and Nyota caught each other’s eyes and grinned when they heard their mother say, as always “that gives me a headache, dear, just walk up there,” and their father’s heavy, affectionate sigh and the squeak of the stairs.

 

Different footsteps outpaced his, also familiar, the cadence bringing back a hundred childhood mornings, so that even as Makena called out “no boys!” Kam tossed their door open and walked in as he always had.

 

“Surprise! We got an earlier shuttle,” he said, breathless, tugging at Makena, who smacked at his hands.  “Come meet Reid.”

 

“I’m coming, cut it out, go bother Ny.”

 

“Hey you!” Kam said, as if he had just seen her. “Come downstairs.”

 

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, gesturing to the monitor where Gaila was waving to her brother.  “Let me just say goodbye.”

 

Kam nodded, hovering by the door as Makena climbed off her bed and checked her hair.

 

“He’s a baby,” Kam was saying to her, “he doesn’t care what you look like.”  Makena was rolling her eyes, muttering about first impressions and that maybe it was _Annette_ she cared about and she was getting _married_ in a few days and had an excuse to look _fabulous_ all week, but Nyota wasn’t really listening because another voice was drifting up the stairs, even and measured and deep, distinctive in a way that went to her stomach, formed a ball of nerves and tension and a thrill, a wild, happy thrill that ran straight through her whole body.

 

“Who else is here?” Gaila asked, smiling, shaking Nyota from a sudden, strong desire to check her own hair.  Which was crazy, she told herself firmly as she ran her fingers through her ponytail, smoothing it and making sure it wasn’t tangled.

 

“Oh, Spock finished what he had to do in San Francisco and decided to bring the rest of his work with him,” Kamau said.

 

“How nice that he was able to get out there so early,” Gaila said.  “Isn’t that just so convenient.”

 

“Yeah,” Kamau shrugged.  “I’ll tell them you’ll be down in a minute, Ny.”

 

“I’ll come down now,” she said, standing, wiping her hands on her skirt.

 

“Have fun!” Gaila said sweetly, her chin on her hand and her eyes shining.

 


	17. Chapter 16

“He’s cute,” Makena was saying, sounding surprised. Nyota, from where she had paused on the bottom step, wasn’t really listening because Spock had looked up at her and there, with the crush of her family, of Gabe who had shown up, of Annette holding her son, of her parents greeting everyone, his eyes had met hers and everything seemed to slow down.

“Hey,” she said, softly, wondering if he had heard her amid her family’s chatter, amid Reid’s fussing and Kamau telling Makena not to drop his son. Spock had, she thought, since he didn’t look away from her even when her father stepped between them smile at the baby, or when her mother started speaking to him.

“Pardon?” he asked, finally dropping his eyes from her to look at her mother.

“I was just asking if you wanted to get settled,” M'Umbha said, patting his arm. “We’re so glad you’re here, you know, after all this time. We were wondering if you’d be coming around. Kamau, dear, will you show Spock to the guest room?”

“He’s knows where it is, Mom.”

“That was not what I was asking, young man,” their mother said and Kamau sighed.

“I’ll take him,” Nyota said quickly, backing up the stairs before anyone could tell her not to.

“Hi,” she said when they stepped into the room, when he had put his bag on the bed and placed the padds he was carrying on the bureau. She tried again, fumbling for words that weren’t quite so inane under the abrupt quiet of being in a room with him. “How was your trip?”

“Loud.”

“Reid?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, closed her hand over her wrist so that her arms weren’t just dangling uselessly by her side.

“I didn’t think you’d get here so soon,” she said to keep the conversation going, which was extraordinarily hard with him suddenly there, in Mombasa, at her parent’s house, alone with her. In a bedroom. Her mind was traitorously blank, going fuzzy whenever she looked at him.

“The remainder of my meetings concluded yesterday,” he said, sounding rather distracted himself.

“That’s nice,” she said, then winced at herself. “I mean, how were they?”

“Satisfactory,” he said, then fell silent, then kind of gestured to the padds he had brought. “I have other work with me.”

“Yeah, Kam said that.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she blurted, suddenly, and then her mouth couldn’t seem to stop because she said, “I missed you,” and then she couldn’t seem to keep herself from taking a step towards him and then another.

“Likewise,” he said softly and she was smiling because he was there, right there with her and that was, in so many ways, enough. And it wasn’t, because she wanted to hear every detail of what he had been up to, wanted to tell him everything she hadn’t had time to over the comm, and she wanted to step closer to him, wanted the scant feet between them to shrink to inches, to nothing, to-

“Are you hungry?” her mother asked, suddenly in the room with them and Nyota wished for nothing more than locks on the bedroom doors in the house. “I didn’t ask you when you were downstairs, I’m so sorry, come have a meal, Annette and Kamau are just sitting down now.”

“Thank you,” he said, as polite as ever even if his eyes were cutting back and forth between her and her mother.

It was fine, she told herself as they followed her mother down the hall and down the stairs. It was fine because they had a couple days together before the wedding, before they all headed back to the Academy, to work and school the rest of their lives, and she would get another chance to be alone with him, she was sure.

…

She did not want to share him. At all.

Not with her brother, who took the Spock’s presence as an excuse to hang out with him whenever he wanted, not with her father who wanted his help setting up the backyard for the wedding, not with her mother who wanted to hear about his parents, and certainly not with her sister, who apparently wanted to do nothing more than just hassle him.

“Want to go for a jog?” Kamau asked him, nodding outside to where the sun was shining and the day was already warming up. Spock left with him, which was great because it gave Nyota a chance to catch up with Annette, who looked overwhelmed, and it gave her a chance to see her uncle and his new wife, who wanted to meet the baby, and it gave her a chance to stare at the sidewalk outside the window and wonder why her brother had to like Spock so much and why they weren’t back yet.

“How are your mother and father?” M'Umbha asked, finding them sitting on a bench on the patio, bent over a padd together like they were back in his office, back at his apartment when it had been just the two of them, when they had had uninterrupted hours to just be, to just talk, in a way that she was increasingly thinking she hadn’t sufficiently appreciated.

“Quite well,” Spock said, looking up and suddenly much farther away from her than he had been a moment before. “My mother extends her congratulations regarding Makena’s wedding.”

“We would so love to see her again,” M'Umbha said, pulling up a chair and sinking into it. “Did I tell you two about the last time we ran into them?”

She hadn’t told them, and proceeded to, and Nyota sat there listening to the rise and fall of their voices, telling herself that she was lucky to have him there at all, next to her, close enough that if she moved her knee it would rest against his, and she spent the remainder of the conversation focusing very carefully on not letting herself do that.

“What’re Vulcan weddings like?” Makena asked Spock as Kamau napped on the couch and Annette and Reid played on the floor, and Spock helped Nyota wash the dishes from lunch. 

“Quite different,” he said, taking a plate from her and putting it in the cupboard.

“Different?”

“Private,” he clarified.

“Private?”

“Private,” he said, taking another plate from Nyota, their fingers grazing over each other’s because she was too busy shaking her head at her sister to pay attention. She did pay attention to the way he looked down at her after they touched, and paid attention to the way Makena was watching them a bit too closely, and quickly paid much more attention to the pan she was scrubbing, ignoring her sister until Spock’s one word answers proved dull enough that Makena wandered away again.

“Can you give me a hand, Spock?” her father asked, finding them in the living room with mugs of tea, studying her parents bookshelves and pulling down ones to look at, Spock reading over her shoulder, the heat from his body a wash of warmth across her back. She stepped away from him, just slightly, because she didn’t need to stand so close and just kept ending up there, substituting a moment being next to him for a moment actually being able to be alone with him. In private. Without her family. Whom she loved very much but would love a little more if they would just give her and Spock more than a handful of minutes alone at a time.

“Certainly,” Spock said, because he was Spock, and was an excellent guest, and had the unfortunate qualities of being not only tall and strong, but also polite and obliging and much more willing to help than her brother was. She like those things about him, a lot, but they made him far too useful in the preparations for her sister’s wedding, an event that Nyota had long since decided, but was just now cementing into an absolute truth, was ruining her life.

Spock’s tea was cold by the time he came back. She offered to heat it up for him, but he shook his head and told her that her father wanted to go to the store with him to get something and needed his help bringing it back.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you later?”

“I expect so.”

She didn’t, though, because her aunt had arrived and someone needed to pick her up and drop her at her grandparents, and then three of her uncles and her little cousins came over, all eight of them, who wanted to clamber all over Spock and Kamau and wanted to play with the baby. They wanted the kind of stories kids thought Starfleet was about, asking for more, and for different, when Kamau and Spock couldn’t do anything other than describe research papers and streamlined engine designs. 

And then it was dinner and she saw him but she couldn’t talk to him, not really, because her uncle wanted to hear about the Enterprise, which he was familiar with from newscasts. Spock told him, this time actual stories of what the Enterprise would bring to Starfleet, reaches of the galaxy that would suddenly be accessible and be able to be explored and studied. She watched Annette and Kamau listen, then drop their gazes to their plates, and she watched Spock glance at her when her uncle pointed out that he would be gone for many years on a deep space mission like that. 

And then, when she wanted to keep talking about the ship, wanted to switch seats with Annette who had quite suddenly left to go check on Reid, Makena wanted to talk about shoes or earrings, or shoes and earrings, and Nyota was not doing a good job listening because she was busy telling herself that she was here to be with her family, not to talk about Starfleet, and that she saw Spock all the time and all of this was fine. The fact that she was separated from him for the rest of the night was not as big a deal as it felt like, and it certainly didn’t warrant a twinge in her stomach as she thought about wanting to be closer to him. 

The evening, in a shuffle of goodbyes after dinner, in all of them yawning and slowly cleaning up, turned into her in her childhood bed, staring at the glow in the dark stars she and Spock had put up years and years ago, standing on a chair to be able to reach that high. 

She turned over, burrowing into her pillow and feeling far more lonely than she had any right to be in a house full of her family, unable to stop herself from wondering if Spock had gone to bed yet or if he was still awake and if she should go find him. She fell asleep before she could decide, full of her parent’s cooking, tired from the exhaustion of spending so much time with her family and the level of energy that required, and worn out from thinking of exactly what to say to Spock if she ever got him alone.

…

The next morning, she brought her coffee into the living room because he was sitting on the couch, and maybe her entire family was up, but they were more or less distracted in other parts of the house. She nearly hesitated, nearly turned away because he was working, but he immediately put down his padd when she walked in. She curled up next to him on the couch so that she could face him, so that she could watch him the entire time they spoke, so that when he reached forward to pick up the padd again to show her what was on it, his arm brushed over her knee and her whole body flushed.

And then Kam showed up, shoved her over, and she somehow didn’t spill her coffee, somehow ended up mostly crushed into Spock’s side by her ebullient, animated brother who wanted to watch the game from the previous night. She never found out what game because it was hard to listen with so much of her pressed against Spock’s hard, firm body, hard to focus when he steadied her wrist so that she didn’t end up pouring coffee over both of them as Kam searched the couch cushions for the holovid controller, and hard to think when his hand settled back down and his knuckles brushed her thigh. It would have been by mistake, maybe, except that Spock didn’t make mistakes like that, and she was wishing more than anything she had worn shorts, or a skirt, or anything other than jeans because it was suddenly quite warm in the room.

…

“We should go out,” Makena said that night after their grandparents left, after the dishes were done and Kamau, Gabe and Spock had taken the leftover food out of the stasis chamber and were finishing it as she, Makena and Annette just watched them, frowning.

“Out?” Kamau asked, yawning, dragging his hand back and forth over his stomach. “It’s 2100.”

“It’s lunch time where you live,” Makena said, her hands on her hips. “I’m going to be old and married soon, in like two days. I have tomorrow and then the next day is the big one. Married. Done. Let’s go.”

“Somehow I don’t think that will stop you,” Nyota said and Gabe nodded and then their parents were offering to watch Reid and Annette looked nothing but thrilled at the prospect of a night out and Nyota looked over at Spock, who was very quiet.

“Do you want to come?” she asked him, thinking she would stay at the house with him, and maybe her parents would go to bed soon, since Reid was asleep, and maybe…

“If you are going,” he said and she was on the verge of telling him no, that that was absolutely the wrong sort of evening she wanted to spend with him, but Kamau was smacking him on the back and Makena was clapping her hands and Nyota was chasing her sister up the stairs, yelling at her to leave her clothes alone, she could pick out what to wear by herself, and to not even think about going through her makeup or jewelry.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, but Spock was a natural at darts, and maybe even more so at pool. She also shouldn’t have been surprised when Makena suggested shots, which, after her sister’s visit to the Academy, Nyota firmly turned down. She was surprised when Spock joined her at the bar, his presence behind her distinctive enough that she knew it was him before she even turned around and when she did, he was right behind her, close enough that her shoulder brushed the hard plane of his chest.

She started to say something to him – to ask if he wanted anything, to ask how the game had gone – when someone bumped into her and he grasped her elbow to steady her. Heat shot through her and she suddenly felt unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with the drinks she’d had.

The music faded to a dull beat in the background, the clamor of voices sounded far away, the fact her siblings were there became all together insignificant under the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his hand on her skin as they watched each other for a long moment.

It all came rushing back in the bartender leaning forward to take her order, in Kamau’s victorious shout as he sunk another ball, in the call of her name as Gabe cut across the bar towards them, and time seemed to unfreeze so that she could find her voice, move from Spock’s loose grasp if she had wanted to. She didn’t, though, because it was easier to step into him so that Gabe could get to the bar, easier to half lean against his tall frame because it was crowded and she was less likely to get knocked into again, easier to give him a reason to leave his hand there. 

The way his thumb brushed lightly, repeatedly over her skin seared itself into her thoughts for the entire night. She could feel it long after they left the bar, long after Spock drove them home, long after she got in bed and listened to her brother go on, and on, to Spock in the hallway. She stared at the ceiling, wanting to hear a soft knock on her door, wanting her brother to go to sleep, wanting to get up and go to Spock, but she fell asleep like that, lulled by the sound of his voice and the thought of maybe tomorrow.

…

“Hey,” she said, finding him carefully slicing carrots in the kitchen the next morning, dropping her purse on the counter. “Are those for lunch?”

“Yes. Your mother asked for assistance. I believe she is assisting your sister with some final tasks.”

“Yeah, I get to help Makena this afternoon. Can’t wait,” she said, boosting herself onto the counter so that they were eyelevel. He eyed her skirt on the clean counter and she smiled at him. “Is this unhygienic?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry,” she said, not moving, liking his own tiny grin, liking how it grew slightly wider when she reached over to grab a piece of carrot.

“Did you not just have breakfast?”

“Yep,” she said, taking another one. “My aunt took me out with three of my cousins. Four of them. Three. They all talk a lot, I can’t keep count.”

“I suppose that is a dominant genetic trait?”

“Hmm?” she asked, concentrating on that smile of his and on the sound of his voice, not what he was saying.

“Loquaciousness?”

“Loquaciousness? Genetic? Spock are you… oh, you’re horrible. I don’t talk that much,” she said, reaching out to jostle his arm and then pulling back before she could think too much about the sculpted lines of his body under his shirt, how he was as slim as he had always been but as an adult his chest had filled out, his entire frame stronger, more powerful. He was still just as lithe, with that completely flat stomach and those long limbs and she was thinking about how his hands looked on the knife, how he was standing there so close to her when caught her eye. His head was tilted quizzically to the side, one of those eyebrows that should not, logically, be so attractive half raised.

“What?”

“I asked whether your father had returned.”

“I think he’s with Reid at my grandparents and I think Kamau’s showing Annette around the city,” she said, wiping her palms on her skirt before folding them in her lap, and then gripping the edge of the counter beneath her, wondering what she normally did with her hands when she talked to him.

He nodded, looked around as if confirming the fact her family was preoccupied elsewhere before setting the knife down and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked. “There is something I would like to speak to you about.”

“Yes,” she said, feeling her breath shorten, her blood start to course through her with anticipation.

He started to speak, stopped, a green flush rising on his cheeks and she realized he was suddenly closer than he had been a moment ago. She fumbled for words herself, trying to summon language, any language, her thoughts a jumble of hope, excitement, and the beginning of a pure, coursing joy that washed through her, over her, left her at a loss for words. She watched him, took in how he was looking at her, the heavy, sweet silence broken only by his soft inhale as he started to speak again and then by the piercing shriek of a comm so loud they both jumped.

“It’s a Priority One call,” he said, sounding as disoriented as she felt, looking around as if he could locate his comm.

“From Pike?” she asked, cringing at the high-pitched tone.

“Perhaps,” he said but she was reaching into her bag, frowning.

“It’s mine,” Nyota said and Spock looked at the comm in her hand, seeming as confused as she was. She flipped it open and the screeching alert finally, thankfully cut off as she answered it.

“It’s me!” Gaila said. “Hi.”

“No.”

“I miss you!”

“No.”

“Aren’t you impressed that I totally figured out how to hack the comm system? I’ll show you, it’d be great for you to know how to do.”

“No.”

“It’s perfect.” Gaila said. “This way you’ll always answer!”

“No.”

“You haven’t called me in days. Can we talk?”

“Later,” Nyota said, rubbing her forehead, trying to ignore how amused Spock looked.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s just not…”

“How’s it going with the Lieutenant Commander?”

“Gaila, don’t-“ 

“-I’m dying to know whether-“

“Stop.”

“-Oh, come on, you told me all about-“

“Stop. Now. It’s not the best time,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut so she didn’t have to look at Spock, at his raised eyebrow and expression that was sliding from bemusement to studied indifference tinged with awkwardness, embarrassment.

“But…”

“Really, really not a good time.”

“Oh.”

“At all.”

“Oh no,” Gaila whispered. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m finding that hard to believe,” Nyota said, hearing the smile in Gaila’s voice.

“Well, yeah, I mean I already ruined it, so why don’t you tell me-”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I’m going to hang up on you.”

“I’ll just call you back.”

Nyota sighed and nodded even though Gaila couldn’t see her. She looked up to see Spock gesture towards the living room and start to back away.

“I want to know what I did that I got stuck with you as a roommate,” Nyota said.

“Inconsequential,” Gaila said, sounding so much like Spock that Nyota smiled, saw Spock’s mouth turn up slightly as he looked back one last time before stepping out of the room. “I would have found you regardless and forced you to be my friend.”

“I’m so lucky,” Nyota sighed.

“You are lucky. And you’re sorry for not calling me since the Lieutenant Commander showed up.”

“And I’m sorry for not calling you.”

“And you’re going to tell me everything.”

Nyota sighed, heard the stairs shift as Spock walked upstairs, lowered her voice anyway. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“The two of you,” Gaila sighed. “Luckily, I met a Risian the other night and do I have a story for you.”

“Excellent. Really,” Nyota said, sighing, smiling, reaching for the pile of half-sliced carrots and setting her comm where she could hear Gaila’s story, wanting Spock to come back downstairs, but maybe only after her roommate finished telling her about some of the specifics of her evening.

…

“I thought you were still out with my Dad,” she said when Spock knocked softly on her door after lunch and she told him to come in. 

“I just dropped him and your mother at Gabe’s parent’s house,” Spock said, hovering in the doorway. She lowered the padd she had been reading and brushed her hair back over her shoulder as she sat up. “Am I interrupting?”

“I’m heading out with Makena in a little bit. I was just enjoying some peace and quiet first,” she said by way of explanation, nodding to the novel she had been reading. 

“Of course,” he said, backing out of her room and she nearly jumped off the bed in her haste to stop him.

“No, I meant, not you,” she said quickly, trying to sit up and put her padd down and keep him from leaving all at once. “Come in, come in.”

He did, pausing for a moment before stepping towards her. He sat next to her instead of on Makena’s old bed, or the chair at the desk, and tipped her padd towards him to see what she was reading instead of just taking it from her.

“It’s Andorian,” she said, looking at how close his hand was to hers. “I guess it’s really popular over there.”

“Not to your liking?” he asked, letting go of the padd and she dropped it on the bed next to her.

“It’s ok,” she said, twisting her hair around her hand so that it would stay out of her face and wishing she hadn’t taken it down. “It’s nice to have a chance to read a bit, it’s been so busy with so much family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Are you… is it too much? Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked, thinking she should have asked him that already, thinking they could do with some more time just to themselves amidst the crush of her parents, her siblings, her extended family that came and went from the house at all hours, her horrible roommate who had kept her on the comm for almost an hour.

“Very much so. It is quite a pleasant change from the Academy.”

“Everyone’s so glad you came.”

“That is gratifying to know,” he said and she watched him start to say something else but her comm rang. She grabbed it, flipped it on silent, and tossed it on her bedside table. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” she said, smoothing her hands down her thighs, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear again. “And sorry about Gaila, earlier. She’s relentless.”

“She does seem quite persistent.”

“Inexorable?”

“Exactly,” he said. “I greatly anticipate learning how she was able to alter the permissions for priority levels on comm calls.”

“She’ll keep you busy reporting weaknesses in Starfleet encryption coding.”

“I must admit that it is quite a helpful exercise.”

She smiled, fiddling with her hair, running her fingers through the bottom two inches over and over until she realized she was fidgeting and pushed it back over her shoulder. She took a deep breath, stilled herself from wanting to ramble, smoothed her skirt again and looked up when he said her name, deep and low.

“Nyota,” he started, stopped, swallowed.

She turned sideways on the bed so that she could face him, one foot on the floor and the other folded under her. She let herself sink slightly closer to him, so that her knee brushed his hip, so that she caught how he watched her hair slip forward again.

“You wanted to talk about something?” she asked. He dragged his eyes back up to hers and nodded.

“I did,” he said and when she went to push her hair back again, he did it for her. She felt her whole body go perfectly still as he gently tucked it behind her ear. 

“I wanted to talk to you, too,” she said, turning her cheek slightly into his palm, enjoying the way his thumb brushed her jaw, enjoying the way it made her breath catch and made her smile, like she couldn’t help herself. It made him smile, too, just a little, and made him lean slightly closer to her. 

“That is fortunate.”

“Yeah, I uh…” She reached for his hand, bringing it down from her face to hold between hers, running her fingers over his in a way that made his eyes go dark. She felt her entire body flush warm from his touch and from the faint echo of his own excitement that mirrored hers. “I wanted to tell you that-“

She broke off when she felt him pull back. She felt her stomach sink, felt confused and hurt until he squeezed her hand and a brief rush of reassurance flowed from him into her, up her arm, settling her racing pulse. 

He pulled his hand from hers, and moved back slightly and it wasn’t until then that she heard footsteps rapidly approached from down the hall, the half open door banging against the wall as her brother threw it open.

“Can you watch Reid?” Kamau asked.

“No,” they both said.

“Get out. I need to talk to Spock.”

“This is my room.”

“Out.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“You’re not being terribly nice, you know.”

“You’re interrupting.”

“Interrupting what?” Kam asked, blinking, glancing between them.

“Nothing,” Nyota said. “Get out, Kam, we’re busy.”

“Indeed,” Spock said, giving him a look she had seen make other humans wilt.

Kam soldiered on, too familiar with Spock to be deterred, and for the first time Nyota wished for a reality her family didn’t know Spock quite so well. “No you’re not, you two are just sitting there. Please, Spock, can you watch him?”

“What is preventing you and Annette from being with him?”

“I just really… please? My parents are out.”

“I am aware,” Spock said, crossing his arms.

“We have to leave right after the wedding and then we’ll have work and shit and Spock, please? Reid likes you so much.”

“Vulcans are not swayed by flattery in the same way humans are.”

“Fine, logically, as my friend you should-“

“Logically, when your parents return, they can-“

“No, it’s too… it’s just… help me out, you know?”

“Stop, please,” Nyota groaned, covering her face with her hand. “Don’t say anything else.”

“C’mon, man, I’d do it for you.”

“I believe I am coming to a better understanding of the concept of irony.”

“What? What does that-?” Kamau asked, looking back and forth between them, then tilting his head to the side, looking like he was taking in Nyota’s bed, the two of them still sitting quite close together. “What-?”

“I will watch him,” Spock said quickly and she felt the bed shift as he stood.

“I owe you one,” Kamau said, backing out of the room, any other thoughts apparently forgotten. 

“Yes, you do,” Spock said, sounding as irritated as she had ever heard him.

“He’s downstairs and he’s super cranky and the time change threw him all off schedule so he can’t really sleep. Have fun!”

…

“I’m back,” she said later that afternoon when she found Spock sitting in the sunshine in her parent’s garden. She sank down next to him on the small bench, letting the heat from the sun work out some of the tension caused by an hour with her sister on the day before her wedding. “That was horrible. Makena had better only get married once because I can’t take much more of this.”

They both tensed as a door opened in the house opened, loud enough they could hear it, but it closed again and she smiled ruefully, turning her back to the house and catching his eye.

“Do you want to get out of here? Go for a walk?” she asked and he nodded but neither of them made any move to go, just stayed right where they were, watching each other in the afternoon light.

“I kind of thought that I’d get to spend more time with you,” she said softly, trying to tear her focus from how the sun was highlighting his hair so that it looked browner than normal, how the light was falling across his face. “I had this great theory about you being here and actually being able to be alone with you.”

“I have found a similar frustration with the practical application of such,” he said quietly and she nodded, thinking of how his eyes followed her every movement, thinking of the way his mouth moved when he spoke.

“We should talk,” she said.

“Yes.”

They sat there for a long moment, just looking at each other until she ducked her head, grinned.

“Someone’s probably just going to walk out here.”

“Based on prior experience, I expect nothing else.”

She smiled at him and when the corner of his mouth curled up, she reached out and covered his hand with hers.

“We could just skip that part,” she suggested, her fingers starting to tingle, her heart starting to race with an anticipation that made her wonder if it was hers or his, or if it even mattered at this point, if it was just passing back and forth between them.

“That would be far more expedient,” he said, lacing their fingers together, reaching for her other hand and drawing them both into his lap.

She leaned over, then, smiling too wide to really kiss him but trying anyway, a bubbling giddiness rising in her and breaking over her in waves as he squeezed her fingers, brushed his thumbs over the backs of her hands, kissed her back. She was too happy, though, laughing and grinning as she kissed him again, and then again, smiling against his mouth. He wasn’t much better, his delight spilling into her everywhere they touched. It echoed back and forth, growing and swelling until it was replaced by something deeper and hotter that arched between them, that made them slow down and lean into each other.

He brought his hands up to cup her jaw, kissing her firm and slow and careful in that methodical way of his until she forgot everything except the way his lips tugged at hers, the way his mouth opened for hers, the way he inhaled softly against her cheek when she pressed into him.

She couldn’t care about anything beyond his mouth on hers, the way he was holding her so gently, one hand tangling in her hair, the other on her back. She couldn’t think beyond the rush of actually kissing him, wanting him and being wanted, and she couldn’t focus beyond the warmth of him against her, the sun beating down on her, so that when the door to the house opened, again, and footsteps approached, she took a long moment to pull away from him.

“I guess this was inevitable,” she whispered, not turning around as he raised his eyes from her and looked over her head. She tried to guess who it was from his expression, but his face was carefully blank, then tried to guess by the sound of the footsteps as they stopped, paused for a long moment, and then sped up as they approached again. 

“Undoubtedly,” he murmured, and he took her hands, dropping his gaze back to hers for a brief moment in which it was just the two of them again, before she squeezed his fingers, and stood up to turn around.


	18. Chapter 17

“Well,” her mother said, pausing a few feet from them. “I just wanted to let the two of you know that everyone’s here and you should come inside.”

 

“Ok.”

 

Her mother was smiling softly.  “I think we’re going to have an early dinner so that everyone can rest up for tomorrow.”

 

“Ok,” Nyota said again.

 

“Would you like help preparing it?” Spock asked and her mother nodded.

 

“That would be lovely, dear,” she said, smiling at them again.

 

They let her go back into the house without them and watched the door fall shut behind her.

 

“Well,” Nyota said, echoing her mother, trying to cling to this last moment when it was just him and her, when she could have him all to herself for just a minute longer, when she could just savor this, here now. 

 

He bent down to kiss her, just once, softly, just a gentle press of their mouths together, his hand ghosting down her back. She could have stayed in that moment forever with him, leaning into his kiss, spreading her hands across his chest, warm and content from him, from them together like this.

 

“Dinner,” she said when he pulled back, more to herself than to him because he looked far more put together than she felt.

 

“Yes,” he agreed, his hand light on her back again, like he couldn’t really help himself as he followed her into the house.

 

Maybe that was it, Nyota thought as they stepped back into the house, just her mother’s gentle smile the only sign that anything was different.  Because even though she could still feel his hands on her, his mouth on hers, not much had outwardly changed as he started helping her mother in the kitchen, as Makena grabbed her and reminded her – again – that she was getting married in the morning, as Reid started crying and Kamau stood there bouncing and patting him.

 

It really wasn’t really much different, even though she had to keep biting her lip to stop smiling, had to concentrate to keep herself from staring off into the distance as she thought about it. It wasn’t that different at all, more like they had stepped back into the same moment they had left, but had paused their own lives in the meantime, rearranged them in a monumental shift, like something had fallen into place, a puzzle piece they made fit after years worrying at it, while the rest of the world carried on around them.

 

It wasn’t really much different except that she could just drop the plates and silverware was holding on the counter and wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him and kiss him. 

 

She could just do that, right then and there, and he would kiss her back and that thought made her stomach jump.  She could just say to her family that they were together, or dating, or whatever, she didn’t really have a word for the headiness of what she was feeling, couldn’t bother naming the brimming joy that made her smile, again.

 

She could just say that, could just tell them, but more than anything, as she stood there for a long moment next to him, his fingers brushing over hers as he handed her napkins, a softness in his eyes and unspoken delight passing between them in a look, she wanted to slip away with him, somewhere private, to talk about it with him, first. She wanted this, between them, that felt so important and huge and wonderful, to just be theirs for a couple minutes longer, to be something she could hold close to herself and harbor and think about and keep safe since it was so significant to her, so _much_ that she barely had words for it for herself, for him, let alone for anyone else.

So that might have been it with her family, she hoped, the only hints of a shift in her life might have the way she and Spock were just a little quiet, a little more reserved than even they normally were, the way her mother smiled quietly into the pot she was stirring on the stove.

 

It might have been, but her family was, as ever, her family.

 

“I told you,” her mother was whispering to her father and Nyota froze, sighed and glanced at Spock again, who looked like he was vigilantly turning his perfect Vulcan hearing elsewhere. She, too, wished for the first time that Reid would scream a little louder.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I told you,” her mother said again, “You never listen.”

 

“What did you tell me?”

 

“About…”

 

Nyota quickly grabbed the stack of plates as her mother nodded to her and Spock.

 

“Huh?  Oh, about the two of them?”  her father asked and Spock rapidly began pulling out salad ingredients, even as she started backing into the dining room.  Which was not nearly far away enough from the kitchen, she thought furiously as her father glanced at her.

 

“Mom, stop,” she said when she got back, when Annette had taken over setting out plates and Nyota went back for glasses.

 

Her mother curled an arm around her shoulders, kissed her forehead and squeezed her.

 

“I’m just happy for you, honey,” her mother said, kissing her again.

 

“What’d Nyota do?” Gabe asked, wandering into the kitchen and fishing a cucumber out of the salad Spock was focused on making. Gabe glanced over at her and Nyota wished with her entire being that she had the strength to keep her eyes off of Spock, but she just couldn’t not look at him. 

 

Which might have been fine if her father had abandoned his attempts to deliberately mortify her in public when she had left high school.

 

“M’Umbha has been telling me for weeks that she thought Nyota and Spock were dating,” her father said, brushing her mother off of her and hugging Nyota tight.

 

“Stop,” she groaned.  “And _Mom_!”

 

“My baby girl, all grown up.”

 

“Dad…”

 

“You know your mother and Amanda have been talking about this for years, right?”

 

“Oh my God, Dad,” Nyota said, covering her face.

 

“How is this my fault?  Your mother is a busybody.  So is Spock’s.  I’m really barely involved.”

 

“Stop _talking_ about it.”

 

“Why?” her dad asked, leaning back to grin at her, and then at Spock who was standing with a half sliced tomato and an eyebrow nearly at his hairline.

 

“You are so embarrassing.”

 

“Still doing my job, then.”

 

“So you two…?” Gabe asked, gesturing back and forth between her and Spock with a carrot.  “Are…?”

 

She laid her head on her father’s chest, nodded, felt her dad squeeze her tight around her shoulders again.

 

“No,” Gabe said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Really? I can’t believe this.”

 

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked, defensive. She _liked_ Gabe, had always liked him, had always thought he calmed her sister down and balanced her out, but this was just… this was just horrible, his crestfallen look at her and Spock both, the idea of him being dismayed at the idea of them being together hurt her with a strength that surprised her.

 

“I would have made so much money,” he groaned and she felt her disappointment turn into something else entirely. “I had him this close, I swear, but no, apparently, someone has a son, someone has to be responsible with credits these days.”

 

“What?” Nyota asked, stepping away from her father, her voice rising.  “ _What?_ ”

 

“I was right! I can’t believe you, Kam! Why would you not take that bet?  You were so sure!”

 

“What…?” Kamau asked, coming into the room without Reid but with a bewildered expression.  “What are you-“

 

“Were you all talking about us?  All of you?”

 

“I wasn’t,” her father said, holding up his hands, palms out. 

 

“That’s because you don’t _listen_ ,” her mother said, her spoon raised towards her husband.

 

“It’s because all that matters is that you’re happy, honey, not that we’re all gossiping about it,” her father said and Nyota could have hugged him again.  “However, I will say that I wouldn’t have bet against them, Kam.”

 

“ _Dad_!”

 

Gabe smacked Kamau in the arm.  “I can’t believe you backed out at the last second!”

 

“I… I…” Kamau gaped back and forth at Gabe, at Spock, at Nyota, and back at Spock.  “C’mon!  That’s my sister!”

 

It was not the first time she had seen Spock hesitate before speaking, but it was definitely the longest.  “I am aware.”

 

“I asked you and you said you weren’t seeing anyone!”

 

“That was accurate.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Kamau asked. “What is going on here?”

 

“What is going on?” Annette asked, walking into the kitchen with the baby, who was snuffling and gumming his fist.

 

Kamau gestured frantically back and forth between Nyota and Spock.  Annette glanced at them too, then smiled at them both.

 

“They’re… they’re…  Spock!  I asked you! And stop with the salad!”

 

“Your mother would like have dinner ready soon.”

 

“That’s… that’s not.  Annette!  Say something!”

 

“Ok,” Annette said, patting Reid absently.

 

“Ok?  Just ‘ok?’”

 

“That’s nice?” Annette tried.  “How wonderful that you two got together. Can you take your son, please?”

 

“Can I take him?  That’s all?”

 

“It just doesn’t seem like any of my business,” Annette said, handing Reid to Kamau.

 

“I used to be like that,” Gabe sighed.

 

“And _now_ ,” Nyota accused him.  “You-”

 

“Gabe, your mom called and wants you home for dinner,” Makena said, walking into the kitchen as Nyota stifled a groan at the sight of her sister.

 

“I’m staying here.”

 

“Your grandparents just got in.”

 

“I am not going to miss this for anything.”

 

“And your brother.”

 

“He’ll understand.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Makena said, staring around at them all.  “What are you guys all yelling about?”

 

“Guess,” Gabe said, a wide smile spreading across his face.

 

“The wedding?” Makena asked slowly, looking around.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Me?”

 

“You wish,” Nyota said, crossing her arms, wishing she were anywhere but there.  Preferably with Spock.  Preferably alone with Spock, without the rest of her lovely family present.  “I wish that too, actually.”

 

“You?” Makena asked her, frowning.

 

“And…” Gabe said slowly.

 

“Just tell me.”

 

“Nyota and…”

 

“I don’t like that everyone else knows. Why are you all smiling? Stop.  Gabe, tell me.”

 

“Nuh uh.  I’m waiting for you to figure it out.  Nyota and…”

 

“Why are you pointing at Spock?  What…?”

 

Nyota closed her eyes, trying to will herself back to the garden, the sun, Spock taking up her whole focus, every ounce of her concentrated on his mouth, his hands, everything that they hadn’t needed to say, everything they just understood and the joy of that moment with him. She tried to absorb as much of that memory as she could in the second before her sister spoke again, before the stillness and calm and peace was broken by-

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Yep,” Gabe grinned. 

 

“ _Nyota_!” Her sister audibly gasped, pointed at Nyota, at Spock, back at Nyota again.  “Spock?  _Spock?_ What are you… what are you two _doing_?”

 

“Making salad,” Spock said evenly.

 

“God, Ny! Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I don’t know.  Obviously a mistake after how calmly you’re taking this.”

 

“I’m going to make popcorn,” Gabe said. “And maybe pull up a chair to watch this.  This is like an Uhura family original.”

 

“Let’s have dinner,” M’Umbha suggested, lifting the pot off the stove.  “This one has meat it in, Spock, I made the other one for you.”  She waved off his thanks and patted him on the arm. “I have a feeling you’re going to have quite a night, sweetie.  Eat up.”

 

…

 

She supposed, thinking back on the long wandering road of her relationship with Spock, there was probably always going to be an awkward family dinner.  They had maybe delayed it for a few years, given themselves a chance to have some distance, some maturity, a better sense of themselves and how they related to each other, but it was probably inevitable, sitting there with her parents and her brother and sister and Spock beside her, both of them studiously eating like by finishing their own dinners, the meal could possibly end sooner.

 

It was probably also inevitable how much fun her family was going to have with all this.

 

“So,” Makena said.  “How long have you two been together?”

 

Nyota took a bite of dinner instead of answering.

 

“Was that your first kiss?”

 

Kam laughed.  “Probably first kiss ever.  You’re such a nerd, Ny.”

 

“Stop,” she said, smacking at her brother’s hand when he tried to grab her hair.  “And no.  And you are all horrible, horrible people who I am mortified to be related to.”

 

“I have like twenty hours,” Gabe said, looking like he was trying not to laugh and failing miserable.  Annette, when Nyota looked at her, just shrugged and looked apologetic.

 

“I’m just glad it’s not me,” Annette said.

 

“We don’t know you well enough yet,” Makena said. “Spock has no chance of escaping us at this point.”

 

“Get out while you can,” Nyota suggested to Gabe and Annette, turning to look at Spock, too.  “All of you.  Head for the hills.”

 

“Nah,” Makena said, pointing around the table. “Engaged, has a son with half our genes – sorry about that, but at least we’re all good looking, I mean, mostly me, of course – and Spock knows what he’s getting into with us. So.  You two have been hooking up all week?”

 

Nyota sighed, thought about remaining silent, and decided answering was less mortifying than letting her family fill in with their own ideas.

 

“No.”

 

“At the Academy?  All semester?”

 

“That’d be against regs,” Kam said suddenly. “Wouldn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Spock said, looking like he was using every ounce of his Vulcan control to keep himself at the table, but doing so admirably, visibly much calmer than Nyota certainly felt.

 

“So you two just didn’t care?”

 

“Of course we cared,” Nyota sighed. “This cannot possibly be this interesting to you.”

 

“This is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to this family.”

 

“That’s not… that’s not even possible. Or true.”

 

“It’s _Spock_.”

 

“You’re getting married.  Tomorrow.  How do you not want to talk about your wedding?  Months and months it’s been flowers this, dress that, Gabe, Gabe, Gabe, no offense Gabe, but seriously, Makena.”

 

“So today…”

 

Nyota took another bite and didn’t look at her sister.

 

“Come _on_.”

 

“I’m not answering, this is none of your business.”

 

“How is this not my business?”

 

“Name one way in which it is!”

 

“Spock,” Makena said, changing tactics. “Does-“

 

“Stop,” Nyota said sharply.  “Just stop.”

 

“Does your mom know?”

 

He looked like he was weighing every possible response available to him and calculating the result of each one.

 

“No,” he finally said.

 

“So, ok, recent.  Because you know, momma’s boy.  So… you guys sleeping together yet?”

 

“Can someone make her stop?” Nyota asked, dropping her head into her hands.

 

“Makena stop torturing your sister,” their dad said.

 

“It’s really just good practice for interrogation training,” Kamau said, serving himself more stew.

 

“I would much prefer to pretend that none of you have to do that for your jobs,” their mother said quickly.

 

“It’s not that bad,” Kamau shrugged, grinning. “Not like this.”

 

“Makena could make a suitable instructor in that field,” Spock added.

 

“I can wear anyone down,” Makena confirmed with a smile.

 

“Ok,” Nyota said with a sigh.  “I’ll tell you all the details, but I get to set the conditions.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

“Day after tomorrow, after the wedding’s over, say… 1600?  Good?”

 

Makena frowned.  “That’s when we’re leaving on our honeymoon.”

 

“Oh, is it?”

 

“No,” Gabe said at Makena’s look.  “No, no, no.”

 

“What’re you guys going to do the whole week?” Nyota asked, sipping her water.

 

“Oh just stop.”

 

“Why don’t you tell us all about it?”

 

“You’re so funny, Ny, really.”

 

“I’m sure it’s something you want to talk about with Mom and Dad here.”

 

“Ha, ha, ha.”

 

“How about I just start guessing?  Are you guys going to-“

 

“This is actually kind of uncomfortable. Maybe we should stop,” Gabe cut in.

 

“Traitor,” Makena said.

 

“Thank you,” Nyota said.

 

Nyota hoped that was it, all she would have to deal with for the night as the conversation began to wander from there. She talked about Makena’s wedding with much more excitement than she had ever been able to muster previously, Spock slowly unwound next to her as Annette asked him about what thruster design Pike was thinking about for the _Enterprise_ , and her mother reminded her father of a dozen things they needed to remember to do after dinner.

 

She really, really hoped that that was all she and Spock had to endure.  Really. A lot.  And really, really hoped that on the eve of her wedding, her sister’s penchant for nosing into her life would be sated by excitement over the coming day, her own happiness.  And, she hoped, her sister’s inclination towards self-absorption would win over any desire to continuing bothering her about all this.

 

Which, Nyota thought glumly as Makena elbowed Spock to the side and joined Nyota where she was washing dishes, was ludicrous, to think for even a moment that Makena could keep her mouth shut.

 

“He was helping me.”

 

“I’m helping you.”

 

“First time for everything,” Nyota muttered, rinsing a plate.  “Dry this.”

 

“There is a first time for everything,” Makena agreed, thoughtfully running a towel over the plate.  “It’s so interesting that you bring that up.”

 

Nyota scrubbed at a fork until it was pristine, scouring the sponge over it again and again, long after she needed to.

 

“So… you two have been doing it all week and-“

 

“We weren’t,” Nyota said quickly, abandoning the fork, wanting nothing less than her sister trying to remember every single time she and Spock had been alone.  And probably start listing them, she thought.  And elaborating on them, added details Makena would not only conjure up but also just say out loud.

 

Nyota glared at her and only got a grin in return.

 

“So, then, you two were dating all semester even though it was against regulations?  Sleeping with your boss?  Nice, Ny. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

 

“We weren’t doing that, Makena.  Nor would we,” she said sharply.  A scenario where other professors imagined that, other students, or god forbid the deans thought that that was what had happened seemed all too easy, all too likely.  Or maybe not, she thought, because if Vulcans were known for anything, it was honesty and a penchant for following rules, and she didn’t think that anyone other than Eneis knew either of them well enough to have even considered it.

 

“Last semester?  Sleeping with your professor?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

Makena sighed and took the stack of silverware Nyota handed her.

 

“So, like, you two, what, had a completely rational, dull, conversation about your professional and personal futures and the likelihood of-“

 

“Stop,” Nyota groaned, forcing another plate at her sister.

 

“And you two haven’t kissed or anything before this week?  Today? Because you’re too perfect to break the rules?”

 

“This is absolutely none of your business,” Nyota sighed.

 

“You haven’t!  You’re so boring.”

 

“Leave me alone,” Nyota sighed.

 

“Oh my God… you didn’t answer that. Say that this was the first time.”

 

“No.”

 

“Say it.”

 

“No.”

 

“Ny!  You two have totally hooked up before!”

 

“Go away.”

 

“You have!  You guys were hooking up at the Academy and it’s the first rule either of you have ever, ever broken and you don’t want anyone to know!”

 

“We were not doing that, Makena. We weren’t. Neither of us would do that. Also, that’s not funny, that’s our careers,” Nyota said firmly in an effort to stem any chance that anyone would think she and Spock would have been so cavalier in the face of Starfleet regulations, even for each other.

 

Which, she realized as she watched her sister’s expression slowly change, had other significant repercussions in terms of Makena’s understanding of her and Spock’s relationship.

 

“So… you guys couldn’t have been together at the Academy until you weren’t his student and he wasn’t your boss…” Makena said slowly and Nyota turned back to focus on washing the stew pot, scrubbing at a bit of baked on onion.  “And Spock, weren’t you on the _Lexington_? For a while?”

 

Spock didn’t answer, just carefully sorted through the silverware as he placed it into the drawer.

 

“So…” Makena said, staring at Nyota.

 

“Wedding.  Marriage.  Gabe,” Nyota tried, picking at the onion.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Tomorrow?  Big day?”

 

“Did you go see him when he was a cadet? Kam?  Kam!  Get in here.  Did Nyota visit you?”

 

“No,” she answered miserably, not looking up at her brother suddenly standing in the kitchen with them, hearing the abrupt absence of the sounds of silverware clicking together, knowing Spock had stilled in what he was doing.

 

“Nyota!”

 

“This is really not a big deal,” she said.

 

“How is this not a big deal?  Before that?  What about T’Pring?  Oh my god, after that?  Nyota!”

 

“Makena…”

 

“When did you guys… Mom!  Can you come in here?  When were we last on Vulcan?”

 

“Please, please, no.”

 

“Your father and I took you two girls there a couple years ago.  Right after-“

 

“Right after you graduated from high school,” Makena said, rounding on her.

 

Nyota glanced up at Spock, who looked like he couldn’t quite bring himself to abandon her but maybe really wanted to, to her brother frowning, to her father who was standing behind her mother in the kitchen door, and back at her sister.  She swallowed.

 

“And?” Makena demanded.

 

Nyota didn’t answer, just carefully dried her hands on a towel and seriously considered making a break for it.

 

“And you two…”

 

Maybe, she thought, she could grab Spock and they could get out of there.  He was pretty fast, but she was no slouch, she could probably keep up with him with the amount of adrenaline coursing through her.

 

“Look at your face, Ny!  What did you guys do?”

 

“Nothing,” she muttered.  She knew a dozen languages, had a hundred things she could say in response and as soon as she said it, she knew that was just the wrong thing, in so many ways.  So, so many ways, she thought, as her sister’s mouth dropped open.

 

“Oh my god, you two had sex!”

 

Nyota put her hands over her face.

 

“You did!  Oh my god, Ny!  _Nyota_!”

 

“I was… not expecting that,” their mother said, ever the diplomat. 

 

“It was a really, really long time ago,” Nyota said dropping her hands and crossing her arms defensively.  “And we were a lot younger.”

 

Kamau crossed his arms too.  “How young?”

 

“Not… not… A completely appropriate amount of young. Old enough to… young enough to… you know what?  We don’t have to explain ourselves.  Nobody else’s business.  Literally.”

 

“Was it good?” Makena asked.

 

“Do not answer that,” their father said, backing out of the room, tugging their mother after him.

 

“Stop laughing,” Nyota groaned as her father kicked the door shut behind them.

 

“That’s my _sister_!”

 

“I cannot believe this,” Makena said, slamming the cup she was holding down on the counter, hard enough that Nyota was shocked it didn’t break.  “Why didn’t you tell me!”

 

“Our decision was based off of an understanding that the information would elicit overblown, disproportionate responses,” Spock said, crossing the kitchen to her.  She leaned against him when he put his arm around her shoulders and closed her eyes at the rumble of his voice under her ear, taking a deep breath as his chest vibrated with the sound.  “Though, as I am certain you understand, it was in no way intended to minimize or diminish any esteem or importance your sister has regarding your relationship with her.”

 

“I can’t understand you when you talk, Spock! And ugh, you two are cute! I hate this!”

 

…

 

“I am so, so sorry,” she started, hours later when their parents were in bed after repeatedly insisting that they didn’t want to know any more details, after the kitchen was clean and Gabe had thankfully distracted Makena with something, and after Reid had started screaming loud enough that Annette had demanded Kamau stop hounding Spock and give her a hand.  “I’ll disown my sister. All of them, really.”

 

She took a step towards him, letting the door to her room fall shut behind her, holding out her hands like a peace offering. “And we’ll just skip the wedding, pack up, go back to San Franscisco, half a world away.  Or maybe the moon?  Or Alpha Centauri?  Rigel? That’s far.  Rigel V?  That’s farther.”

 

He slipped his hands into hers, pulled her closer and bent down to kiss her.

 

“I find myself unfortunately incapable of escaping the fact that it is only logical to stay through your sister’s wedding as that was the original purpose of this trip,” he said when he pulled back and she groaned and buried her face in his chest.

 

“Do you think they’re going to leave us alone?” she asked, her voice muffled in his shirt.

 

“No.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist and instead of thinking about her siblings, who were _horrible_ , or her parents, who were much too amused and happy for her and Spock to do anything other than smile when Makena hadn’t stopped teasing them the rest of the night, she thought about how nice it was to hug him, how nice his hands felt stroking slowly up and down her back.  She thought about how warm he was through their clothes, how strong he felt, how it was at once strange and unfamiliar to be so close to him, and at the same time it felt like the most normal thing the world, the thing that made her relax, made the tension of the evening drain of her until it was just his hands on her, his body against hers, and when she tipped her face up to his, his mouth, slow and soft and sweet.

 

“Do you still want to talk?” she asked while she could still think, before the heat dragging at her completely clouded her thoughts.

 

“I believe we have reached an acceptable, mutual understanding,” he murmured, kissing her again, his hands drifting down to her waist.

 

“And work?  The Academy?  That’s all… ok?”

 

“As long as you do not decide to become an engineer, command track cadet, or pursue the sciences.  Though I suppose that if you did, I could transfer departments once again.”

 

“I happen to be quite happy with communications,” she said, smiling up at him because she couldn’t help it, not with his hand coming up to cup her cheek, not with the look in his eye that was something like disbelief that this was happening, something like a joy that had more strength, more weight in it she had never seen from him.  “So we’re going to do this?  Together?  For real?”

 

“I would like to very much,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.  “Though, for a linguist, that was a rather non-specific, imprecise-“

 

She cut him off with her mouth, laughing as she kissed him, pushing him backwards towards her bed until he sat down on it. She let him pull her down onto her lap, her knees on either side of his thighs as his hands swept over her back, her waist, down to find her hips and pull her closer against him as they kissed and kissed.

 

She cradled his head in her hands, brushing her thumbs over his jaw, his cheeks, his ears so that he shivered and shifted closer to her, sucking at her bottom lip and drawing a small sound out of her. She returned the fervency of his touch, the heat in his hands and barely restrained hunger in his kiss, opening her mouth to his and scraping her nails along the back of his neck, feeling him shiver again.  She wanted to press him backwards, wanted to sink further into his lap so that she could push closer against him, wanted to maybe tug his shirt off or grind down onto him to ease the ache quickly building in her, and as soon as that thought rose in her mind his arm snaked around her hips and pulled her in closer. She started to smooth her hands down his chest, started to pull at the hem of his shirt, when she also started to hear something over her pounding pulse and the loud rush of blood in her ears.

 

“No,” she whispered, breaking their kiss only to have his mouth find her neck and start working at the skin there so that she just tilted her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut.  “This is ridiculous.”

 

“I agree,” he murmured, stilling as the stairs squeaked and voices rose from down the hall.  “However, admittedly this is perhaps not an optimal setting.”

 

“Optimal… optimal setting?” she asked, letting her weight fall on to his knees and leaning back so she could look at him. “It’s the people who aren’t optimal.  And I’m related to them.”

 

“It is unfortunate.”

 

She just nodded, admiring the green flush on his cheeks, his slightly mussed hair that she smoothed down.  She felt too warm, her mouth swollen and her body still longing for the press of his and she couldn’t help but hope for another few minutes with him.

 

“Maybe they’ll leave us alone,” she whispered, kissing him lightly, humming into his mouth when he kissed her back, and then sighing against his cheek when two all too familiar pairs of footsteps stopped outside her door, rolling her eyes when her sister started speaking.

 

“We should probably take this conversation somewhere else, Kam.  We wouldn’t want to disturb them,” Makena said, sounding anything other than sorry.

 

“We definitely wouldn’t.”

 

“That would be pretty rude.”

 

“Self centered.”

 

“Mean.”

 

“Uncalled for.”

 

“Though them not telling us all this stuff was kind of mean.”

 

“That _was_ mean. That was really mean.”

 

“But we still probably shouldn’t bother them.”

 

“We could definitely be bigger people about this.”

 

“Set a good example as the older siblings.”

 

“We could do that.”

 

“We could.”

 

“But it is Ny.”

 

“It is.  And it’s Spock.  _Spock_.”

 

“Think he’d get mad?”

 

“I don’t know,” Makena said, sounding thoughtful. “But he really does like experiments.”

 

“And learning new things.”

 

“So logically, he might appreciate if we research his reaction to getting interrupted.”

 

“And Nyota’s.  Because, you know, science.”

 

“So that in the future we’ll know what to avoid.”

 

Spock kissed her cheek as he moved her off of him, so that she felt cold without his body under hers.  He stood, crossed to the door, and opened it.

 

“Oh, yeah, kind of mad,” Makena said, smiling at him. “So sorry.”

 

“Won’t happen again,” Kamau said.  “Also, that’s my sister.”

 

“Do you frequently remind Gabe of that same fact?” Spock asked.

 

“It gets old after a while,” Kamau said, leaning against the doorframe. 

 

“How soon can we expect that occurrence?”

 

Kamau grinned.  “A while.”

 

“Get out,” Nyota said.

 

“Three feet on the floor,” Kamau said. “Lights on so that you can read, door open so that the knob is touching the wall.”

 

 “Did you know our beds still squeak?  It’s so funny, all those times Dad said he was going to fix that, he just never got around to it,” Makena said with a grin.

 

“Can’t you two just leave us alone?”

 

“We could,” Kamau said with a slow nod.

 

“We do have that option,” Makena agreed.

 

“Gabe?” Nyota called, wanting nothing more than for Makena to get distracted again, hoping that Gabe calling her away so that she could be alone with Spock wasn’t just something that happened on Vulcan, years ago when she hadn’t wanted it nearly this badly, hadn’t even cared to be alone with him.

 

“He’s with his family,” Makena said with an innocent smile.  “And I’m with mine! It’s so nice to get to spend time together.”

 

“Annette?” Nyota tried.

 

“Asleep with the baby,” Kamau said, dropping his arm around Makena’s shoulder.  “I’d hate to wake her up, you know how rare it is that she gets enough rest.”

 

“Don’t you have an apartment to go home to, Makena? A wedding to rest up for?”

 

“Whatever.  And no.  We’re having a sleepover.”

 

“We are so not.”

 

“Did you know that the night before weddings couples wouldn’t see each other?  And all of that day?”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah, right?  I guess it was for good luck.  This was ages ago.”

 

“It is highly unlikely that the parameters you describe can in anyway influence the success of your marriage,” Spock said. “Logically-“

 

“No,” Makena said, cutting him off. “Don’t care.  Anyway, as your punishment for not telling us immediately-“

 

“Oh come on,” Nyota said.  “Like how you told Kamau about that guy, with what was his name?  On Kam’s soccer team-“

 

“Ny!  Stop!”

 

“And Kam, with Makena’s friend from college, who was she again?”

 

“No,” Kam said, pointing at her.  “No.  Stop.”

 

“Ok, you know what?” Makena said, pushing past Spock and walking over to Nyota’s bed.  “You are horrible.  You’re horrible, too, Kam, but we’ll talk about that later.”

 

“We will,” their brother promised.  “Let’s go get a drink, Spock.”

 

“You are aware that I find no purpose, nor enjoyment, in consuming alcohol.”

 

“Yeah, well, I need one.  Let’s have a long talk about your intentions,” Kam said.

 

“I am entirely certain that you understand them or you would not still be here.”

 

“That’s my sister,” Kam said, glaring at Spock.

 

“I am unclear as to why you think I do not understand that.”

 

“Bye,” Makena called as Kam dragged Spock into the hall.  “Goodnight!”

 

“Goodnight,” Nyota echoed miserably.

 

“This is going to be so much fun!” Makena said, flopping on Nyota’s bed with her.

 

“You have your own apartment.  With your fiancée.  And also,” Nyota said, giving her a shove when Makena showed no signs of moving, “your own bed.  Oh no, don’t lay on me, get off, did you eat bricks?”

 

“That’s not nice to say on the night before someone gets married,” Makena said, fitting her arms around Nyota and squeezing her. “I’m getting married! Tomorrow!  Can you believe it?”

 

“I can’t breathe.”

 

“You’re fine.  So.  Spock. Sex with Spock. _Spock_.  Was it good? What was it like?”

 

“Not talking about it.”

 

“It wasn’t good?  Oh.  That’s kind of a bummer.  He’s so-“

 

“Oh my God, just stop.”

 

“What’d you guys talk about tonight?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“What were you guys doing?”

 

“I’m not answering these questions.”

 

“Why _not_?”

 

“It’s private Makena.  Private.  Adjective. From the Latin _privatus_ , meaning-“

 

Makena groaned and clapped her hand over Nyota’s mouth.

 

“Let’s call Gaila.”

 

Nyota shrugged her off and dragged a pillow across her face.  “I’ll have an aneurysm.”

 

“You’re zero fun.”

 

“Let’s talk about Gabe.  Wedding.  Wedding dress?  Wedding night?”

 

“Nah.”

 

“Let’s talk about something else.  Anything.”

 

“Nope,” her sister said, batting the pillow away and smiling at her.  “You have a boyfriend.”

 

“You’re ruining this.”

 

Her sister was still smiling, propping her chin on her hand and just lying there grinning at her.

 

“Are you mad at me?”

 

Nyota sighed heavily.  “Yes.  No. I should be.  I wish I were.”

 

“What happens if you guys break up?”

 

“Oh my _God_! Makena!”  Nyota grabbed the pillow and smacked her sister with it.  “What is wrong with you?”

 

“Are you mad at me now?”

 

“Kind of!”

 

“Do you like him?”

 

“Is this seventh grade again? Of course I do.”

 

Her sister smiled again. 

 

“Are you happy, Ny?” she asked softly.

 

“Yes.  Very.”

 

Makena slid closer to her and hugged her again. “Good.  I’m happy for you.”

 

“I know,” Nyota sighed.  “Or you would shut up about it.”  She sighed again and finally hugged her sister back. “I’m happy for you, too.”

 

“I know!” Makena squealed into her ear, loud enough that Nyota cringed and tried to pull away but her sister was holding on to her too tightly.  “I’m getting married tomorrow!  Let’s go back to that being the most important thing.”

 

“Oh, please, please, let’s,” Nyota sighed, looking at the door that had closed behind her brother and Spock.

 

“Are you just going to think about him all night?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Our beds really do squeak.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And Mom and Dad share a wall with the guestroom.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Oh don’t sigh like that.  And it must have been good, look at that look on your face.  And get out from under the pillow.  I’m either going to talk about the wedding or I’m going to keep asking questions about you having sex with Spock, but I love you so you can choose.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here’s the good news: we are not at all close to the end of the story. I have this whole outline of what’s going to happen, with them, with Kirk, with Gaila, with her family, with his family, and this whole part here with the wedding is halfway- ish? Maybe?
> 
> The bad news? I have built this enormous world and this story is huge and long and takes a lot of time and work every week, time that I often don’t have, so I’m going to put this on hold and take a break. There’s lots of reasons, such as each of these chapters can take easily 10-15 hours of work, which is a lot. A lot a lot for something I don’t get paid to do and do in my free time. I have work, I have school, I have adult things that I’m apparently responsible for like laundry and grocery shopping, and most of all, I’m getting married this summer and the Fiancée has salient points about me actually doing stuff for that, not just making Nyota and Spock kiss over and over. And not just watching Star Trek repeatedly, but I’m working with him on that one (who can’t make a guest list and watch a movie at the same time? Really.)
> 
>  
> 
> More good news? There will be one more chapter before I put this on hold and it’s basically done and I’ll have it up pronto (which probably still means a few days because typos and proofreading and whatnot) (also AND DON’T READ THIS SPOILERS SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH I WARNED YOU DON’T DO IT PUT YOUR HAND OVER THIS PART OF THE SCREEN!! I had to make a note to remind myself to actually make sure Spock’s pants get off of him, because I forgot that detail in earlier drafts, so yeah, that happens (which I guess is also kind of obvious)).
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway I have another more detailed author’s note at the end of the next chapter that says more things about the hiatus from this story, but I just wanted to say something now so that it wasn’t just a huge shock when you read the next chapter, because stopping a story halfway through is enough of a jerk move, and doing it as a surprise, suddenly, even more so.


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is it for now. I’m actually kind of sad. Or really sad. 
> 
> So yeah, a break, and I don’t know how long it will be, but I do know that when I come back to this, I want to have written the rest of this story and post chapters more regularly than I have been, so that could be a while. I also know that it would probably be impossible for me to completely take a break from writing because I just love it too much, so in the couple of hours each week or each month that I have, I’ll spend it working ahead on this story, and also polishing up the half dozen nearly finished stories on my computer that I want to get out there, so you might see some of those floating around while I continue to work on this one in the background. Those are almost easier, because they’re smaller than this behemoth I’ve created and easier to work on in fits and starts. When I do start publishing this WIP again, it’ll be in this document so put this story (or me) on your author alerts/subscriptions, or follow me on tumblr, or just check back here once in a while to see what’s what and if this is going again, or if I’ve put something else up.
> 
> And most importantly, thank you for reading this and reviewing it and giving it kudos/favorites and leaving me notes on tumblr because it’s just awesome to know that you all care, what with the time it takes me to not just create and write the story, but the harder slog of editing and getting it good enough to put out there, and also, thanks for the kind words, which sounds funny because I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but all the well wishes definitely mean something.
> 
> So I guess that’s that. Thanks for reading and I hope that when I do start again some of you will still be here for the rest of the ride! And I hope you enjoy this last bit!

The next morning, Nyota volunteered to go get bagels for breakfast because in the swirl of preparations nobody had bought milk, the replicator couldn’t handle feeding the number of relatives that packed into the house, and it was just easier that way, giving her an excuse to bring Spock with her. To help carry them back, she told her sister, and also, please leave us alone.

“So,” she said as they left the house, as her hand found his and their fingers tangled together. They walked slowly down the street, not bothering to take her parent’s car because they could be out of the house longer this way, and it gave more time to wander through the streets in the stillness of the early morning, the sun just peeking above the buildings. They didn’t speak, just enjoyed the quiet contentment that passed between their fingers, the way it made her whole hand and arm warm with little sparks of heat every time she brushed her fingers over his.

“Two of them for here,” Nyota told the cashier after placing the order, and sat with SPocks at a table by the window, spending breakfast nudging his foot with her own.

The house was barely controlled chaos when they returned and she opened the door to reveal Makena searching for her shoes, Reid screaming and crying, Annette nearly crying as she tried to calm him down, her father and Kamau setting up chairs, or tables, or chairs and tables.

“I’ll take him,” Nyota offered, but the baby got handed to Spock instead as Makena dragged her upstairs, demanding to know the location of her shoes and when was the last time Nyota had seen them and whether she had moved them and where the hell they were.

The rest of the morning was barely calmer, their cousins tearing through the house until two of their uncles gathered everyone up and made them go outside, where they promptly got sent in again so that they couldn’t mess up the backyard. Her father spent the morning arguing with Kamau over how to fix something until Spock walked in, Reid soundly asleep against his chest, and pointed out that they were missing a part. It prompted a trip to three different stores and finally resulted in a copious amount of duct tape, while Nyota and Annette agreed they seriously hoped this wasn’t standard Starfleet procedure, even as Spock tore off another piece.

“Lunch?” Kamau asked, sitting back on his heels when they were done. 

“You two had better get out of here if you want a chance to eat,” their father told him and Spock. “Bring something back for the rest of us. Go, go, go, while you still can.”

Spock brought her a salad and she ate it leaning against the counter next to him, focusing far more on his hand on her back, his hip pressed against hers, the brief flicker of his consciousness when his fingers brushed over the nape of her neck, than on what she was eating.

And then Makena walked in, groaned at the sight of them, and told Nyota that she was seriously rethinking how she was going to do her hair.

“No,” Nyota sighed. “We’ve been over this.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Makena moaned.

Nyota felt Spock squeeze the back of her neck, kiss the top of her head and step away even as Makena paused in her crisis to roll her eyes at them.

She saw him later when he was helping Kamau pin his medals onto his uniform in straight rows, both of them standing in the hall in their dress slacks and socks, and those black undershirts that she had never, ever noticed so viscerally before, no matter how many times she had seen officers in them when the weather warmed up, or when meetings let out, and now couldn’t possibly take her eyes off of.

“Hey,” she said, letting her hand find the small of Spock’s back, watching his hands work over the tiny fasteners. The fabric of his shirt was warm from his body and she traced over the smooth, rigid muscles of his back, the dip of his spine, up to brush her fingers across the hard edges of his shoulder blades, and back down to his slim waist, resting her hand there.

“Hey yourself,” Kamau said. “Stop touching him.”

“No.”

“Stop it.”

“Nope,” she said, leaning her cheek against Spock’s arm and grinning at her brother.

“It’s weird.”

“That’s too bad for you.”

“Come on.”

Spock just finished the last pin, handed her brother’s jacket back to him, and arched an eyebrow. “Would it perhaps be more comfortable for you and appease your sense of propriety if we chose a more private place?”

“Yes,” Kam said with a nod. “Wait. No. Not at all. Just… I don’t want to think about it, Spock! That’s my sister!”

“Then do not think about it.”

“Stop it. Stop touching. Stop it right now. God, you two just…” he grumbled, walking back into his room and firmly shutting the door.

“There seems to be a wide disparity between how enthusiastic your family is regarding the abstract idea of a relationship between us and the practical reality,” Spock said. “This is far more complicated than it would be on Vulcan.”

“Let’s talk more about the practical reality,” Nyota murmured, standing on her toes to kiss him.

“The wedding is beginning in forty three minutes,” he said softly, after a long moment, breaking their kiss to lean his forehead on hers.

“I think there’s a joke in here about you not being a teenager anymore,” she whispered back, enjoying his look of confusion and then smiling at the slightly green tinge his cheeks took on. She kissed him again, quickly, before making herself step away so that she could find her sister and see if she needed help, and to get ready herself.

“You look great,” she told her sister twice, and then again, checking her own dress in the mirror while Makena frowned at herself.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s perfect. All of it. Gabe won’t know what hit him.”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re beautiful. Calm down.”

“I’m going to go get Mom.”

Nyota just sighed and set down the handful of hairpins Makena had made her hold.

“You’re already dressed and ready and everyone’s here and-“

“Mom!”

She sighed again as Makena left the room, only to hear a soft knock on the door a moment later. Spock stepped in and she felt herself flush when his eyes raked over her, and felt it deepen, felt her stomach flip flop when he shut the door and stepped towards her.

“Hi,” she said, moving to him on bare feet, admiring the clean lines of his dress jacket, perfectly pressed and creased in a way that made him seem taller than normal. She smiled, traced her fingers over the medals on his chest and tipped her face up to be kissed. 

“I was sent to find Makena,” he said, pulling back from her mouth to look at her again, his finger drawing a line on her back at the edge of her dress. She watched his eyes drop from hers and trace down her body before he bent down and softly kissed her cheek. “You look very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and craning to comfortably kiss him. “You’re too tall,” she said against his mouth. “Wait right there, don’t move.”

“That is a very practical solution,” he said as she stepped back long enough to find her heels and slide them on. He kissed her again and then again, his hands finding her waist before slipping lower.

“I have to say that you are very, very distracting in that uniform,” she whispered, smoothing her hands across his chest.

“Oh gross,” she heard Makena say as she came back into the room, as Spock’s hands quickly found her waist again. “You two are ridiculous. Is this what it’s going to be like now?”

“Your father would like to know if you are ready,” Spock said. 

“I want to mess with you two,” Makena sighed. “So much. But I want to get married more.”

“Wow,” Nyota said, enjoying the warmth and strength of Spock as she relaxed into him. “Must be true love.”

Makena shrugged, took one last look at herself in the mirror and nodded. “Must be.”

…

Nyota couldn’t decide on the best part of the wedding, whether it was watching her sister get married, the way Makena cried during her vows, Makena who was so brash and loud and audacious wiping at her eyes while Gabe blinked furiously. 

She wasn’t sure if it was that or whether it was Spock’s hand in hers for the entire ceremony, his face so much more stoic than what rolled across their touch, his arm against hers where they sat with her family.

It might have been the fact that Spock actually sighed when Makena finally cajoled him into dancing, told her to hold her hand still on his, and then danced with her for two songs with all of his normal composure and grace. It might have been his hand on her own right after that, pulling her out of her chair, his other finding the small of her back as he drew her against him at the edge of the dance floor. It might have been the way she couldn’t have named that song or the next one, or the one after that because she was too focused on how it felt to be held by him, their bodies brushing together as they slowly moved to the music.

It might have been that when she rested her cheek against his shoulder, he kissed her temple and whispered to her that his mother had called him, which was apparently prompted by a message from Nyota’s mother that Amanda should get in touch with her son.

“Can you imagine if our parents didn’t know each other?” Nyota whispered back. “We’d have so much privacy.”

“Yes,” he said and she pulled back enough to watch him glance around the party, her father dancing with Annette, Makena with her college friends, Gabe and Kamau and Gabe’s brother chatting at the bar, and her mother surrounded by her own sisters. “However, I find that I prefer that they do.”

She nodded, leaning into him again and squeezing his fingers. 

It might have been that Spock, because he was Spock, went to check on Reid so that Annette and Kamau could continue to enjoy the party. It might have been following him into the house, getting pressed against a wall once they determined Reid was soundly sleeping, and being kissed carefully, slowly, until she was out of breath. 

It might have been standing at edge of the party when they wandered back and her father speaking to Spock as he always had, asking for his advice about this, telling him about that, clapping him on the arm as he was called away by some cousin or aunt or uncle. It might have been Kamau, finishing a drink and reaching for another, admitting he was thrilled at the idea of the two of them being together and hugging Spock until he reluctantly hugged him back.

The best part might have been her immediate family, afterwards, after most of the guests had left and everyone was yawning, the quiet that settled over the house as Kamau had another slice of cake, Annette had a mug of tea, and her parents surveyed the disaster their house had become in the space of a few hours and shrugged, her father’s arm around her mother’s shoulders.

It also might have been – and probably was – when she whispered to Spock that they should get out of there and he nodded, both of them going upstairs to change. 

“Have her home by 2200, Spock,” her dad called from the kitchen when they came back downstairs, her hand wrapped around his as she pulled him towards the door. She groaned and tried to ignore her father and her brother grinning at them.

“It is 2346,” Spock said carefully. “I am unclear as to exactly-“

“Very funny, Dad,” she said, tugging Spock behind her.

“That’s my sister,” Kamau yelled but she was already shutting the door.

“Is there a reason he continues to repeat that?” Spock asked, getting into her parent’s car when she pointed to it.

“Rampant, unmitigated obnoxiousness,” she said, getting in the driver’s seat but not buckling in right away. Instead, she leaned over and kissed him once, thoroughly, long enough that he drew her closer, long enough that they were both breathless when they pulled apart and she couldn’t help but smile at him as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. 

They drove and drove until the lights of the city faded behind them, until the night grew still and dark, until signs of civilization gave way to scrubby bushes, rocks strewn along the edge of the desert where it shifted to sand as far as they could see in the starlight. She pulled over, then, and he squeezed her leg where his hand had been resting. They both got out of the car, standing for a long moment in the warm night before she smiled at him and walked around the car to press a soft kiss to his lips. She rooted through the trunk until she found the blanket her parents kept there, spreading it near a boulder and drawing him down with her to lean against it. 

She let her shoulder fall against his, let her knee rest on his own, and reached for his hand, already missing the warmth, the quiet, steady stream of his emotions, glimpses of his thoughts that came across intermittently, like he was so used to controlling them, holding that back, that he kept forgetting that he didn’t need to anymore.

They sat there for a long time, wrapped in the silence and warmth of the night, looking out at the horizon, over the expanse of the desert before them, and at the stars, bright and glittering,

“What’d your mom say when you talked to her?” she asked, eventually, quietly so as not to disturb the particular peace of his presence next to her, the stillness and calm of the moment.

“She was pleased,” he said, then quickly corrected himself. “I believe, in the interest of accuracy, to say she was pleased is perhaps an understatement.”

“I am horrified at the thought of your mom and my mom on the comm together when the wedding’s over.”

“I agree that the notion fills me with some trepidation,” he said and she grinned, since what coming across his hand wasn’t trepidation at all, just gentle amusement.

“Do you think if our parents hadn’t known each other we’d still have ended up together?”

He was silent for a long moment, his thumb rubbing back and forth across hers, her impression of his mind becoming muted as his thoughts turned away from her, to whatever he was considering.

“I cannot quantify the degree to which my decision to join Starfleet was influenced by the example of your brother having done so already,” he said finally. “Nor can I answer whether or not being so familiar with Terran customs through my exposure to your family did or did not account for my choice to join a human dominated career path when I decided that a Vulcan one would not be a tenable solution.”

“I almost didn’t go to the Academy. And Gaila didn’t either. I don’t really know much about it, she just said once that she didn’t think it was going to work out until she actually got to Earth, and even then. I don’t think it was in Kirk’s plan, at all, he said he decided the morning he enlisted, and McCoy more than once has said that he half wishes he was back home and would be if it wasn’t for his ex. And yet, here we all are.”

He nodded and when he looked at her, she grinned.

“Maybe you would have just been that hot professor, if I hadn’t known you before Starfleet, and I would have gotten this huge crush on you over the semester.”

“Would you have joined the myriad of cadets who populate my office hours?”

“They are all ridiculous. But I would have brought actual questions, you know, because I would have wanted to you to notice me.”

“To think otherwise would be impossible,” he murmured, stroking his fingers more firmly over hers so that a deep heat jumped from his hand and shot up her arm.

She sighed, happy, smiling at the image of them bumbling their way through getting to know each other with no background together, none of the familial ties that had drawn them together, again and again.

“Think I would have still worked for you?”

“I cannot imagine a scenario in which you were not the most qualified cadet for the position.”

She smiled again and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“And then?” she asked, kissing his cheek again.

“And then I suppose that we might have found ourselves in a similar experience as we are in now, though perhaps with far more privacy and fewer disturbances.”

She laughed softly and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Do they bother you? You seem so comfortable around them with all of this.”

“While they have a… peculiar way of demonstrating such, which is quite contradictory to their true meaning, I appreciate that their actions stem from affection and approval. Beyond that, they only disturb me to the degree to which they disturb you.”

“I can take it.”

“You are, indeed, quite resilient.”

“Years of practice with those two. Years.”

He was quiet again, looking off into the distance as she rubbed her cheek on the fabric of his shirt and traced her fingers over the back of his hand, his wrist, up his forearm and back down. She felt something from him other than his quiet happiness, something laced with trepidation, or maybe the echo of that, something that had by now turned into relief.

“Were you nervous that they wouldn’t like the idea of us together?”

“You are quite adept at understanding that which is communicated through touch telepathy despite such limited practice.”

“Thanks. And answer the question.”

He didn’t right away, staring down at the their hands. “I questioned whether or not I would be a logical choice for a human family to accept for one of their children, though I empirically understood that the situation was perhaps different with your own family due to our shared past.”

“Which might have made it worse? If they hadn’t been so encouraging, since they already know you so well?” she asked softly, imagining a scenario where Kamau and Makena had been quiet, hadn’t had as much fun messing with them, a scenario with no teasing, none of the baiting and goading that had happened over the last few days. It made her incredibly sad, deeply upset at the idea of them not caring for the idea of her and Spock together, the idea her siblings would have done anything other than pick on them, that her parents had done anything other than smile and tell them how happy they were for them.

He didn’t answer, just nodded and went back to staring off into the desert and she thought about the fact that her family loved him so much, thought about his parent’s reaction, his mother’s, and thought about the fact that whoever he ended up with, on any planet, it would mean an interspecies relationship for him, a family who would be accepting that he was half something else, half alien, half other.

“Well, you know, it is nice that they are so in favor of the idea, but regardless, even if they weren’t, I kind of have a thing for half-Vulcans and I hear there’s only one of them around.”

He looked at her and then leaned down and kissed her forehead so gently that her throat tightened with the weight of it.

“It is fortunate that we found each other, no matter what circumstances brought us together,” he said, kissing her cheek this time, her lips just once, softly.

She looked down at their hands twined together on her thigh, that gentle contentment and joy lapping at the edge of her mind again, warming her whole body, and slipped her other hand from where she had been caressing the inside of his elbow to hold his hand in both of hers.

“I like this,” she said quietly, tightening her hands over his. “Being able to feel you like that.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment and she could feel his thoughts withdraw slightly until she felt something shaky from him, something slightly tremulous and uncomfortable.

“You are the only one I have ever found who does,” he finally said, not quite looking at her.

“Spock…”

“I have been told it is intrusive and invasive, overly intimate,” he said, looking away from her, his mind pulling back farther.

“It’s just another language, one I’d like to learn.”

“I do not believe I fully understood what I was asking from you all those years ago, without you having been exposed to the same biological and cultural background that I was,” he said quietly and she could still feel him thinking about a different day, a different desert and different rocks, the sun high in the sky and his fingers finding her face.

“I know, I didn’t either. But it doesn’t logically follow that a lack of information would mean it was unwelcome.”

“It was not?” he asked and she could feel the sharp pang of his surprise.

“No… I kind of thought it was nice,” she said, thinking back. “It was… you kind of checked to make sure I was ok. I always remembered that.”

“I admittedly had a distinct lack of prior experience concerning our actions and believed it prudent to confirm your own frame of mind,” he said, sounding more like himself, but she didn’t get the sense he was quite comfortable yet, not from his hand in hers, and not from the set of his shoulders.

“You know,” she said, sitting up straighter and trying to catch his eye. “I was never mad about it and it had nothing to do with all those years when we didn’t talk, after all that.”

He didn’t answer, just let his eyes slide away from hers and back into the desert night.

“And then you were back at the Academy and I was… I owe you an apology, certainly, Spock.”

“It was of no-“

“Stop,” she said, laying her hand on his chest. “It was of some consequence, or a lot of consequence. I should know, Gaila yelled at me. Repeatedly. For so long I just didn’t know what to say to you and I thought I had changed, and that we were too different as adults to be friends and I was really wrong about that. And I just sometimes think about how much you mean to me now and… last year was confusing and hard and it didn’t feel good, not for me and probably not for you and I’m sorry. And I think that maybe we did change, or maybe we just grew up, but I made that a lot, a lot worse in the mean time than if I had just…”

She trailed off, remembering what it was like the year before, what it was like to see his name on her list of instructors for the semester, to know that she would be seeing him so much, and even just the memory of that made her stomach jump. But maybe, she thought, not with nerves. Maybe with something else, something she hadn’t had a word for and had chosen to believe was anxiety, tension over the idea of being in a professional environment with someone she had been so intimate with, with those years of silence hanging between them.

“I think I had quite the reaction to you being there,” she finally said. “And I didn’t understand it and I didn’t face up to it and if you’re mad, and if I hurt you, and if you’re upset, I understand and I’m really very, very sorry.”

“I am not,” he said evenly and when she leaned over to kiss his cheek, he found her mouth with his own, his free hand coming up to cup her jaw.

“Were you?” she whispered when he finally drew back.

“I will admit to a certain degree of confusion.”

“Kind of a ringing endorsement for touch telepathy,” she said lightly. “Not having to puzzle your way through all of that.”

“It does have certain advantages.”

She watched him stare off in to the distance, stroking her fingers over his until he returned the gesture, their fingers tracing over each other’s in the quiet of the night.

“It’s important to you,” she said and he looked sideways at her. “Really important. Mind-melding, being together like that.”

“It is not necessary.”

“But you would like to.”

After a long moment, he nodded. 

“You are quite perceptive.”

“Do you want to now? Or want to wait? Some other time when we’ve been together longer?”

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave her, the heat rushing and pounding up her hand at her suggestion, the way that even in the starlight she could see his eyes darken, was answer enough.

“I want to, too,” she whispered, feeling herself shiver at his response. She rose on her knees and pushed his legs apart so that she could kneel between his thighs. She traced her fingers over his cheeks, down his jaw to his mouth, where he kissed her thumb, then kissed her when she leaned forward. She smoothed her hands down his chest and let them rest on top of his thighs as she sat back on her heels and smiled at him. 

He looked at her for a long time before moving, cupping her shoulder in one hand and brushing his fingers across her cheekbone, her forehead with the other. When he spread his hand on her face it was shaking slightly.

There was nothing at first, just the light pressure of his fingers, and then there was everything, his thoughts like carefully arranged, sequenced columns, his mind ticking through whether she was ok, flicking at a rapid pace through the consideration of if she liked it, if he should stop, if it was too much to ask, too soon, too different, too alien and strange and unnatural, all of that mixed with how happy he was, how the feel of another’s thoughts, her thoughts, unwound something in him, eased an ache, a loneliness he had carried with him for so long, and did he ever feel, she thought, his emotions pounding through her with a fervency that surprised her, deeper and more distinct than her own, carrying a weight she couldn’t have imagined until he showed her. He let her feel them, let her feel his mind against hers and it felt… nice like a good conversation felt nice, or a hug felt nice, or looking at someone and knowing they were on the same page, understood the same things in life was nice, nice like looking at him and knowing that they were here, together, doing this and had come so far and found themselves in this place and it was good she thought, completely right and wonderful and as it should be, and then he was thinking the same thing, and they were thinking it together, and one of them thought finally and she laughed out loud, hearing it through his perception as well, feeling his amusement like a deep tickle and his curiosity regarding her laughter, how it made him flush warm when she was happy.

Finally, she repeated to him, or he did to her, and then it was his crystal clear memories, and her own, muddled with time, details lost and forgotten and blurred at the edges that he filled in for her, so that they were watching themselves scramble through the Forge, play with I-Chaya, eat lunch at his parent’s kitchen table, at her parent’s as he tried a peanut butter and jelly and then she was laughing again at the memory of that day. And then it was so much more, them on his couch with work spread between them, the peculiar quiet of his office when the rest of the building was empty, how she looked to him the last night of the semester when she had turned back around in his hallway, how he had been suddenly, horribly unsure whether or not he could control his response to her, to follow what logic dictated, and his relief and annoyance when Kamau had appeared, and then how she had looked walking down the stairs when he had arrived at her parent’s house, and she remembered that with him, and then it changed again to the day before in the garden, their shared, unspoken anxiety evaporating in a few words and a kiss, and then that morning at breakfast, alone with him at the cafe as the sun rose and the day started around them, and then the drive to the desert, how much more they wanted to say to each other and how close they were sitting and she was suddenly aware of how her thoughts against his made his blood race, made his breath shorten, made his hand slip from her shoulder down to her waist and then down to the curve of her hip. She could feel him aware of her so near to him and how that made him ache, made him want to reach for her and drag her down against him, and she could feel heat course through him, through them both.

I want you, she thought, or he thought, but it didn’t matter because then it was just their mouths, impatient and eager. She slid her hands under his shirt, seeking the hard heat of his body and found it, skating her hands across his taut stomach and up his chest as he grabbed at her, wrapped his arm around her hips, ground her down onto him, all of those sensations shared, echoed back on each other until it felt like her thoughts were spinning. 

His hand slipping from her face was an unfortunate side effect of wrestling his shirt off of him and the connection between their minds dulled slightly. She could still feel him at the edge of her consciousness, like they had simply stepped into different rooms but could still see and hear each other. It gave her space to take a deep breath, enough focus to push him onto his back like she wanted to. She crawled over him, kissing his chest, his neck, trailing her lips along his jaw and breathing against his ear as his hands worked their way under her shirt, and left trails of heat over her back, her waist.

“Guess we’ve done all this before,” she whispered as she kissed his ear, as he shivered and tugged at her shirt until she raised her arms and skimmed it off over her head. 

“That is not entirely accurate,” he said and she laughed when she found herself on her back, found his hands slipping beneath her to unhook her bra, sliding down to her hips to pull off the rest of her clothes. He knelt between her knees, looking down at her for a long time before he started pressing long, slow kisses to her neck, her breastbone, bending to worry at her nipple with his tongue.

“God,” she groaned, her back rising off the blanket as he swept his thumb across her other breast, his hands curling around her ribs, fingers light on her back and he held her like that until she was squirming against him. He moved lower, then, mouthing down her stomach, kissing her thighs, sweeping agile fingers down to her ankles and back up as he pressed her legs apart.

She tried to watch him, wanted to watch him as his mouth found her, but it was too much, her thoughts were hazy and blurry, unfocused beyond what he was doing to her with his tongue. Instead, she closed her eyes and when she couldn’t keep her hands still anymore, dug her nails into his shoulders, and when she couldn’t keep from shuddering, twisting, felt him curl a warm hand over her thigh and press her into him. It was too much, too good, his mouth gentle and soft, licking inside of her, teasing at her and then firmer again, over and over, so that the tension built and built. She could hear her breath, ragged, could feel herself squirming against him, wanting to both drag his head harder against her, to get more pressure from his mouth, and wanting to crawl away, the throbbing heat that was mounting low in her stomach almost too intense to bear. She felt sick with it, dizzy from pleasure, his mouth working until she couldn’t breathe, could only cry out and push against him as heat coiled inside her and suddenly flared outward, leaving her limp and boneless in its wake. 

She could feel his thoughts prodding gently at hers, could see him watch her come back down after that and could feel him feel it, just as sure as she felt the gentle kisses he pressed to her stomach as her breathing started to slow.

She at once felt completely sated, her entire body slack and loose, and at the same time could feel his blood pounding through him, could feel how hungry he was for her, could feel the way he barely held himself back, was already imagining being inside her, until all of that echoed in her own thoughts and she was reaching for him, drawing him over her, helping him shove his pants down his hips and off. She slid her knees up his sides, tangled her fingers in his hair and watched him as he pushed into her, his expression tightening slightly, his breath catching, thrusting slowly, shallowly as they stared at each other in the starlight. She rocked her hips into his as their rhythm grew firmer, more sure, his body hard and thick in hers and paid attention to the subtle shifts in his breathing, watched his gaze become more distant until his eyes closed. She felt him bury his face in her neck when the way they moved together became almost too much for him to bear, and then it was too much for him, heat washing through his body as his hips worked faster, building and building until it broke, his mind going hot and white and blank as his breath hitched and he tensed, pleasure bleeding into her in hot, deep pulses. 

This time, when he had relaxed into her, when he had caught his breath and his thoughts had cleared from the daze that had over taken them, when he raised his head to look at her, she knew what to say, but this time, he beat her to it.

“Would you like to go back before someone misses us?” he asked with a smile, a small one but a real one. It was what she was going to tease him with and she laughed into his neck, kissed him there, his collarbone, his shoulder as she smiled and shook her head.

“No,” she whispered, holding him tight so that he couldn’t move away. “I want to stay right here.”

“I agree,” he said against her jaw, leaving slow, hot kisses down her neck.

“Think we’ll ever do this in a bed?” she asked sweeping her fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead and pressing her lips there. 

He rested his chin on her breastbone and smiled again, nodding.

“I like it when you smile,” she said, tracing his mouth with a finger, feeling his contentment and lazy, soft joy through the link that still arched between them. 

“I find that you make me quite happy,” he said, kissing at her fingers.

She smiled, at a loss for what to say to something like that from him and settled for thumbing his cheek, teasing, “are you sure it’s not because you just got laid?”

“I do not know,” he murmured, crawling back up her body to kiss her again. “I believe future trials will be necessary in order to reach a more complete understanding.”

“We can arrange that,” she whispered, kissing him back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and letting him lean into her, warm and heavy and solid.

They stayed that way for a long time, their minds lightly pressed together, their skin sticky and damp, until they started to slowly reach for their clothes as the night cooled. She immediately missed the press of his skin, his body against hers, and once dressed, she got into his lap, leaning back against his chest as he leaned against the rock. She twisted once, twice, to kiss him, soft and slow, before resting her head on his shoulder and staring at the stars with him, their fingers entwined. 

She woke up like that, wrapped in his arms and tucked under his chin as the sky started to lighten in the east. She felt him stir slightly, felt him squeeze her, felt him press a soft kiss into her hair and slip his hands under her shirt to spread on her stomach. She yawned, stretched, pulled her sleeves over her own hands to warm them and yawned again into her cuff. 

“Good morning,” she mumbled and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. She felt him pull her into him as if they could even get closer, could be more tangled in each other.

She didn’t know if it was still, or again, but she could feel the dim echo of his mind in hers and she relaxed into it, thoroughly enveloped in him, blinking blearily as the sky turned from black to deep blue, as the stars started to fade and pinks and oranges and golds started to streak across the sky, 

“You love me?” he asked, plucked from her mind to his and she smiled, nodded, rubbed her check on his chest.

“Yeah,” she whispered, ducking her hands under her shirt to find his, to lace their fingers together so that their minds drew even closer, a muted impression of him solidifying into clearer thoughts as she stroked her fingers over his. “I do. A lot.”

She could feel his mind churning, could actually feel the thought processes that resulted in his fierce look of concentration she had seen so many times. She knew it was there now without turning around but she did anyway, twisting in his arms to look up at him with a smile.

“What?” 

“I am attempting to determine a way to put what I feel for you into applicable language, for human ones are proving insufficient,” he said, softly kissing her temple. “You have only one word for love and I find that it is rather inadequate.”

She laughed and wrapped his arms around her tighter, felt him kiss her forehead.

“You sure you don’t want to come back to teach in the xenolinguistics department?”

“I do not,” he murmured. “It interferes with another, far more significant pursuit I plan to undertake.”

“Excellent,” she said, snuggling into him.

He kissed her cheek, her hair, bent down and whispered into her ear in Bjoran, and then in Organian, and then in Trill, and then in Klingon which made her laugh again, and then finally in Vulcan, which made her squeeze his hands and blink against how her eyes grew damp and pricked with tears. They spent the morning like that, their fingers tangled, their thoughts entwined, completely surrounded by each other as they watched the sun rise, watched it climb higher and higher in the sky.


End file.
